Allegations of Abuse 6 of 12in a series
by mccoylover
Summary: Continues immediately after Three Strikes with Brooke and Danielle going up against each other in court, as well as Jack being accused of wrong doing by one of his oldest friends.
1. Chapter 1

By the time their weekend sailing trip ended, Jack McCoy and Brooke Malinowski had learned two things. First: When making love on a boat it is best to stick to the queen size bed in the master cabin, instead of attempting to live out 'waterfall fantasies' in a shower the size of a toilet stall at _Denny's._Two: When sailing with a woman who is new to the world of sailing, above all else, it's essential to have an ample supply of sea sick medicine.

"Okay, I admit it," Malinowski said as she joined her lover who was all ready soaking in the claw foot tub in their bathroom. "Maybe I should have done a little more research about this boat business, before jumping in with both feet."

McCoy slipped his arm around her as she rested her head against his shoulder. Between the shower incident and her bouts sea sickness, McCoy knew there wasn't a spot on his fiancee's body that didn't ache.

"It was thoughtful and more than generous," he said with sincerity as he began to run his hands over her tender spots. "But, maybe we should forget about living on a boat and plan on staying here, at least until you get you sea legs."

"As much as I wanted you to live your dream, I have to admit, if we went for the boat you'd probably be living that dream by yourself after six months. I had no idea one person could throw up that many times in a forty eight hour time period."

McCoy bit back a laugh. He knew if he started to chuckle, more than likely, his lover would too. Realizing how tender her abdomen had to be, he knew it would be nothing short of cruel for him to encourage her to use those muscles.

"You have no idea how much I appreciate the effort you made. Now Brooke, about this homicide fantasy of yours, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to steer clear of Danielle and Sam until you've had a chance to …"

"To what? To calm down? I can do that," she said sweetly. "I'll call Danielle and tell her I need to reschedule our lunch date for how long? Say after the next couple of decades?"

"You realize you'll be doing good to make it through the commute... not to mention the workday...Monday? Danielle can keep. How did you two end up planning lunch during the week, anyway?"

"She's representing the defendant in that case Renard's taking to trial next week. You know the one. Murder One charge? Spousal abuse is the motive? Danielle's going to go for battered woman's syndrome as a defense."

"The Crawford case," he replied, once again fighting back laughter. This time, laughter that was bringing tears to his eyes.

Malinowski could sense the pure mirth he was holding back and playfully splashed at him, as she carefully looked up at his smiling face.

"Go ahead, laugh. I know you're thrilled Danielle will be in my neck of the woods for weeks with this one.If she's at trial in Islip she won't be darkening the door of one of your ADA's anytime soon."

"Oh, it's not just that. You know how strongly she feels about battered wife syndrome. Renard's going to be drowning in experts and statistical data. Just be glad you this one didn't get dropped on your desk."

"I've seen some of the pre-trial stuff. It looks like Clint has the wife dead to rites on this one. It will be messy through, with the victim's history of violence. To be honest with you Jack, I wouldn't be surprised if my boss didn't hand it off to Clint because he knew I'd have tried to plead it out as Man One, just to avoid a jury verdict."

"Come on Brooke, you know we don't put the victim on trial."

Malinowski rolled her eyes so dramatically at him as she stick her tongue out that, despite his best efforts, this time McCoy burst into laughter.

"This is one of the reasons why I can never work for you, Jack. As right as you are, in the privacy of our home, I have to be able to call a spade a spade. I'm not going to pretend I think this woman deserves a life sentence for this. To be honest, given your family history, I am a little surprised you don't want to give Roberta Crawford a medal for ending that living hell she called a marriage."

McCoy felt himself shudder, more from the surge of memories from his childhood, than the coolness of the bath water.

"Come on, "he said as he eased them both up. "Let's get you back into bed. I'll bring you your cell phone so you can call Danielle before it gets too late."

"Smooth but not smooth enough, "she commented as she let him slip her bathrobe over her."You're trying to dodge the family bullet again, Jack."

McCoy slipped his robe on as she finished tieing the belt of her robe and led her to their bed.

"Let it go, Brooke," he said quietly as he pulled the covers back. "You know how I feel about making a case personal."

"Trust me; you won't have to ask me twice. Actually, when Jake and wrap up our closing next week, I was thinking about asking Michael for a few days of vacation time. That is, if you're still ready to set a wedding date?"

"We can set a date tonight if you're ready," he said thoughtfully, as he reached across the bed to grab the tiny phone on the night table. "Did you want me to schedule some time off as well?"

"Actually, I thought if I felt better in a few days, I could use a sometime to try to get a jump on those cabinet doors I put you off on for so long. Since it looks like we're staying here, it might be nice to get the loft finished up before you move the rest of your stuff over here and decide what you want to do about subletting your old place-"

Before McCoy could respond, the phone in his hand began to ring. McCoy glanced at the caller ID and frowned.

"It's your boss."

"Clint?"

"No, your _real_ boss, Jackowicz."

The puzzled look on Malinowski's faced deepened once she took the phone from McCoy and began speaking to the District Attorney for Suffolk County. McCoy exchanged his robe for a fresh pair of briefs and an tee shirt, as he listened with growing concern to his fiancée's end of the conversation.

"I don't freaking believe this,"she said as she tossed the phone onto the night table.

"Spoke too soon. What happened to Renard?"

"His mother had a stroke," she said futility. "He's gonna be in Vermont until the end of the week. His second chair already called the judge to get a continuance, but it's Judge Eliis and he doesn't like delays. He wants to start jury selection in the morning, so Jake will close for me on the O'Brien case and I'll be taking the lead on Crawford, at least until Clint gets back. So much for finishing those cabinets any time soon.

_So __much for dodging the bullet_, McCoy thought grimly.


	2. Danielle Melnick, Esquire

"Brooke, I can't tell you how relieved I was when I was told you'd be taking the lead in this case," Danielle Melnick said warmly as Malinowski accepted her outstretched hand. "Now that a woman is prosecuting maybe we can come up with a plea everyone can live with."

Malinowski said nothing as she motioned for Melnick to take a seat. After making the usual offer of coffee and spending af ew minutes making polite conversation about mutual colleagues and steering less than subtly away from the subject of their lovers, Malinowski opened the case file on her desk.

"Okay Danielle, what is your client willing to plead to?"

"Given the fact the hospital records support her claim of repeated abuse over the course of her marriage to that son of a -"

"Danielle," Malinowski interjected as she raised a hand. "Cut to the chase. When Judge Eliis says court starts at ten, it starts at ten. We have less than thirty minutes to resolve this, so deal."

The woman clad in the smartly tailored fuchsia suit and high necked black silk blouse nodded. Under different circumstances Malinowski would have taken the time to ask where Melnick had found such a flattering outfit, but after her eight a. m. briefing by the DA himself, the senior ADA knew it would be better to cut to the chase and get back to court as quickly as possible.

_"__Michael, the charge should be Man One," Malinowski said as she eased herself into the chair across from the DA, her back still sore from the lengthy train ride from Manhattan to Long Island. _

_When her boss frowned, she wasn't sure if it __was because__ he could see the amount of pain she was in or because of her des__ire to plea down Roberta Crawford as quickly as possible._

_"The woman shot her husband at point blank range without provocation. That's not Man One Brooke," he snapped__, while offering her one of two cheese danishes._

_"Come on, you know Melnick's defense has merit. Why are you fighting me on this Michael? Aren't you the guy that donates a zillion dollars a year when the battered womens shelter here in town has its annual fundraiser? I know what side of the issue you're on. Just let me plead it out," she continued to argue while she sampled the danish._

_"And_ I_ know that a woman with battered women's syndrome rarely flees the scene, or rarer still buys a gun months before the murder takes place. There's clear premeditation here and if you don't see that, maybe you need to go back to the 'West Law' site and re-read the definition of murder in the first degree. No plea lower than Murder Two and she does the max."_

"Fine," Melnick said briskly, "my client will plead to Man, one eight and a third."

Malinowski shook her head as she met Melnick's surprised stare.

"Not interested," Malinowski said firmly, her game face glued on to hide her own discomfort.

"Not interested? What kind of an offer _will_ give your boss his pound flesh, Brooke?"

Willing herself to hold her opponents irratated gaze, the senior ADA repeated her superior's instructions.

"_Murder_ two, twenty years," Melnick repeated incredulously."I realize you picked this case up late last night. Maybe you haven't had a chance to review the pictures that document what my client's husband put her through?"

"I took the first train in this morning, Danielle. I've been here since six and I've reviewed the pictures as well as every other document in the case file. There's premeditation here and that makes this murder-"

"My God, I knew he was good, but I didn't know he was _that_ good."

"I don't understand. Who –"

"Jack," Melnick said simply. "I thought he was finished trying cases, but apparently I was wrong. Apparently he's brainwashed you into accepting the cycle of abuse he lived through, as the standard to base-"

"Obviously were done here," she said sharply, her anger sparked by Melnick's unexpected attempt to bring up McCoy's first hand knowledge of life in an abusive home.

Knowledge Malinowski knew her fiancee had shared with only a handful of his closest and most trusted friends. Abruptly, she moved to open her office door.

"Listen Brooke," Melnick said as she noted the flash of anger in her advisary's eyes. "I know how that sounded and I apologize."

"If you think for a second I base my plea bargains on anything other the evidence at hand and the directives of the _Suffolk County_ District Attorney, you are more than welcome to file a complaint. But don't think for a second, just because you and Jack are close, I'm going to sit here and listen to the kind of crap you just tried to -"

"All I'm saying," Melnick said evenly, "is that any woman looking at those pictures knows my client was provoked. Whether it's Jack or Michael Jackowicz you're listening to, you know anything more than Man One minimum time, is a miscarriage of justice. As a woman, you have to make your boss see that, if you hope to serve justice in this case and not just your boss's political agenda."


	3. Misunderstandings & Unexplained Bruises

"Well,_ as a woman_ you do have -,"ADA Jake Cohen began taking extra delight in his best friends reaction to his use of Danielle Melnick's words.

"Shut up Cohen,"Malinowski retorted as the pair walked towards the criminal courts building that stood across the concourse from the District Attorney's offices. "I didn't tell you that story to have you mock me. If I hear that phrase one more time, I swear I'm having a sex change operation."

"Well _that's_ an intriguing idea," Cohen said snidely enough to elicit a careful chuckle form his boss. "I wonder what Jack would have to say about that?"

"Damn you knock it off ...you're killing me... literally," she said as she shifted her briefcase to gently rub her the left side of her rib cage.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I forgot you're still recovering from you bout of sea sickness," Cohen said seriously, while he held the door open for her. "As for the good Ms. Melnick, if you can just get through jury selection, Clint will be back in time to do the real dirty work on that case. You know, unless you can find something Clint or Jackowicz missed in the evidence, your hands are tied."

Malinowski nodded as she stepped through the metal detector; Cohen right behind her.

"Tell me something good about the Bennett case," she said as they continued down the hallway."Does it still look like you'll be able to close by Wednesday?"

"Before this morning's break the defense rested. I'd say I should be closing sometime tomorrow."

Malinowski nodded. As through as Renard's assistant had been, Malinowski knew she and Cohen had a professional rhythm. She had already asked and gotten the okay from the DA to have Cohen assist her on the Crawford case once the verdict came in on the Bennett case.

"Thank God for small miracles. With any luck you'll get a verdict the same day and be free to give me a hand with this disaster."

"You sound like you're planning for the worst. Isn't Clint due back in a couple of days?"

Malinowski nodded as she stopped in front of the double doors marked: Part 12 Criminal Trials.

"You know my motto: Plan for the worst, hope for the best. With any luck, Clint's mother will make a speedy recovery, for his sake as well as mine. But with a stroke…I'm not gonna count on anything until I see Clint walk through my door to get the files back."

"Hey, I'm taking the train back to Will's," Cohen began as he opened the courtroom door and waited for her to pass. "Do you need a ride to the station tonight?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," she said quietly as she leaned against the door. "The best part of this day is yet to come. I have to meet Sam at the house. Seems the bank sent him my cashier's check for my share of the house. I'll tell you Jake, the way this day so going, I'll get run over by a bus before I have a chance to deposit the check."

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As she watched the cab pull away from the curb, Malinowski said a quick prayer asking that not only would her encounter be brief with her ex husband, but uninterrupted as well. After a day of watching Melnick blatantly try to stack the jury with jurors whose profiles made them seem more inclined to be sympathic towards the nauseatingly helpless looking defendant, Danielle Melnick was the last person Malinowski wanted to see.

Just before she was about to ring the bell, Prescott opened the front door. His suit vest was unbuttoned and his shirtsleeves rolled up. Judging from the smell of assorted spices, she had caught him in the middle of making dinner.

"Danielle tells me you're prosecuting the Crawford case," he remarked as they walked through the box filled living room.

"Sure did, which is why I'd like to make this fast. Really don't want to discuss the case with defense counsel after working hours or defense counsel signifcant other. Where's my money?"

Prescott did little to try to hide his surprise at her callousness as he reached into one of the kitchen drawers. As he looked through the drawer, Malinowski couldn't help but notice the array of kitchen boxes beside the walnut dining table, that were marked 'Dani's Kitchen'.

"There you go darlin'. Sorry about the mix up," he said handing her a plain white envelope.

"Thank you, Samuel," she said primly, as she removed the check and held it towards him. "Before I go I want you to take a look at this."

Prescott moved closer, a look of uncertainty on his face.

"I'm lookin' Mal and all I see is the same thing I saw on the settlement agreement."

"Direct your attention to the name of the payee," she said in an ice like voice. "Please state the payee's name, for the record, counselor."

Prescott gave her a sideways glance as he realized where she was going with her request.

"I am well aware you are no longer my wife Brooke, whether the six month waiting period has passed or not I-"

"Good, "she exclaimed with glee that dripped with sarcasm. "Then maybe the next time you're tempted to interfere in my life, you'll be able to grasp the idea that whatever I do is none of your business anymore."

"Well now, I don't recall having time to interfere in your life as of late," he said with equal sarcasm. "Bein' that I was busy last week sendin' my half brother to prison because your fiancée couldn't do his job right."

"If you think I give a damn_ how_ that bastard ended up in jail, you're not only naive; you're as big a hypocrite as your brother is."

The look on her ex husband's face reminded Malinowski of the occasional lost child one sees at the mall. Normally such a forlorn look would have shamed her into making an immediate apology, but the look she remembered on her fiancée's face as he tried to convince her he was a man unworthy of her love, served to strengthen her resolve not to back down.

"If you really believe that, you're not the woman I thought you were," he said quietly as he looked down at the mahogany flooring.

"That's my point. I am _not_ the woman you thought I was and I don't need you speculating to the man I intend to marry that I would ever doubt him. If I pulled anything like that with Danielle you'd be beside yourself with anger and rightly so."

"It's not the same thing and you know it," he said defensively as he turned his attention to the pots on the stove.

"Because Jack skated close to the edge to keep a felon off the streets? Don't kid yourself, if it hasn't already happened, there will come a day when Danielle bends the rules to protect a client and if you think you'll pick up your marbles and refuse to play with her anymore, you not only don't know who _you_ are, you don't remember who you _were_ before you left for Tulsa."

"You have no idea how far he crossed the line this time," Prescott shot back, undaunted.

"Fine. Jack's the devil himself. He drinks too much, he is a walking disaster when it comes to relationships, and he's a workcoholic that will probably die from the stress before we're married a decade. But make no mistake, I _will_ marry him and if you use any excuse to put doubt of that in his mind again, I will go to Danielle and tell her what _you've_ done and let her draw her own conclusions as to why."

"What the hell kind of a threat is_ that_ supposed to be," he demanded as he swung around to face her. "I told Jack the truth and I don't care who knows it. Go ahead and tell Danielle whatever you like. Why would she care that I warned him what he was riskin' by playin' fast and loose with his ethics? She's known him for years._ She_ knows how flawed your diamond in the rough really is, even if you refuse to see what's right in front of you."

"I'm sure Danielle would be thrilled to hear such a passionate out pouring," she said dryly. "Especially concerning your ex wife's fiancée. Think about how that might sound if_ I_ tell the story, Samuel. I'd bet she'd be as understanding as I am right now."

Prescott shook his head as he did a double take as it occurred to him what kind of a veiled threat his ex wife was really making.

"You'd never be able to manipulate Danielle into thinkin' I wasn't sincere in my feelin's for her," he said with more certainty than he felt. "You know I care for her, Brooke. I can't even believe you'd even be able to _think_ of such cruel threat."

"I would have said the same thing of you up until this weekend. I know you thought you were protecting a vulnerable woman, maybe even subconsciously you wanted to protect your brother, but you had no right to use me to further either of those ends. Do anything like it again and I will give you a very unpleasant taste of your own medicine because, quite frankly I really don't need you to help screw up this relationship-" she said as she abruptly turned to leave, equally abruptly grabbing the kitchen island as she cried out in pain.

Prescott immediately placed his arms around her, inadvertently putting more pressure on the tender areas she herself had twisted by moving too quickly. When she pulled away out of what was obviously pain, the annoyed expression on his face changed to a look of concern.

"Darlin' what's wrong with you," he said as he made another attempt to support her, this time reaching for her well above her rib cage, as he guided her to a nearby dining room chair.

"I'm fine. I just slipped this weekend and...," she began, while she cautiously lowered herself onto the chair.

As she rested her body, the back of her blouse became caught on the woodworkof the chair. Prescott moved to release the material from the fame of the chair and Malinowski suddenly stopped speaking, startled by the sound of her ex husband's horrified gasp.


	4. Returning From the Doctor

Jack McCoy's executive board meeting had run even longer than usual that evening. By the time he opened the door to the loft, the grandfather clock across the room read one minute past twelve. As the set his satchel, fedora, and all weather jacket on the rack by the door, he studied his fiancée with curiosity.

A few feet away from him, Malinowski sat on a sheet of plastic. Clad in her bathrobe and slippers, she continued to run an electric sander over the cabinet door that lay in front of her. McCoy loosened his tie as he moved noiselessly to the wall outlet behind his fiancée and unplugged the sander.

"What the-," she began, as she turned to find McCoy standing with the cord hanging from his hand. "Hi, honey. Mind telling me what you're doing with that?"

"I could ask you the same question, Brooke," McCoy said as she took the hand he offerd and she stood to lightly kiss his lips. "It's after midnight. This is the last thing I thought I'd find you doing, especially with you running the Crawford case."

"I got restless," she said as she gingerly hugged him. "Took a pain pill around eight and woke up at eleven. I couldn't get back to sleep, so..."

"A pain pill? Did you decide to listen to reason and see a doctor about that bruise on your back," he asked as he led her to the sofa. "I when I saw that Sunday morning, I knew I should have just taken you to an emergency room whether you liked it or not..."

"Listen, we both hit that shower floor pretty hard. I'll bet your hip still hurts like hell."

"Never the less, I'm glad you decided to see a doctor. Do you want a drink or maybe some tea?"

"No, I just finished a cup of tea a few minutes ago. As for the doctor, it wasn't exactly my idea," she said uneasily.

McCoy listened intently as Malinowski recalled the details of her visit to the Suffolk Memorial Hospital emergency room.

After seeing the grapefruit sized bruise just above her tail bone, Prescott had lifted the blouse higher, against his ex wife's embarrassed protests. After she nearly jumped out of her chair when he began to carefully prod her ribs with his hands, Prescott announced she was either going to go with him to the emergency room or he was calling an ambulance _and_ the sheriff.

_"The __sheriff why__ would you call…? Oh for God's sake Samuel," she replied impatiently as she start to get out of the chair." Nothing sinister happened-"_

_"Then let's just get you to a doctor and skip the obligatory skirmish, shall we darlin'?" _

"So did you," McCoy asked with amusement.

"Did I what?"

"Skip the skirmish and go with Sam?"

"Well if I hadn't, I'd have had at least two more people to haggle with and I wanted to spare _you_ a visit from some SVU detective," she said as she rolled her eyes.

"I hate to admit your ex husband could be right about anything, but if the doctor wrote you a prescription, that tells me the visit was a good idea. It doesn't matter how you ended up there. What did the doctor say?"

"Well, the bruise looks worse than it is. I just have to be careful how I move for a few days," she said reluctantly, as she rubbed the bridge of her nose.

McCoy noticed the gesture and raised an eyebrow.

"There's more. It's your ribs, isn;'t it? You broke one, just like I told you."

"Shut up Jack," she said crisply as she shifted uncomfortably. "Gloating doesn't become you. Besides, it's just a hairline fracture..."

"I knew it," he said with satisfaction. "I could tell by the way you favored your left side…I knew it wasn't just from the all that heaving you did the night before we tried that waterfall ..."

"And here I thought you wanted me to see a doctor to make sure I was okay. _Now_ the truth comes out. You just wanted a doctor to prove you were right," she said as she playfully smacked his arm away and moved towards the bed.

"You know that's only half true," he said with a wink as he followed her across the room. "I won't apologize for being right about you needing to see a doctor. I thought you might have broken more than one rib. I'm glad I was wrong about that. Now did he wrap the ribs and how long before he thinks the rib will be healed?"

"Yeah, he wrapped the cage," she remarked impatiently as she untied the belt of the robe. "Not only do I feel like I have a corset on, but this totally screws up the line of the suit I was going to wear to court tomorrow..."

"Then wear a house dress," he said dryly as he slipped the robe over her shoulders and bent down to inspect the ace bandage around her ribcage. "When you're done showering in the morning, wake me and I'll rewrap this for you. It's got to be tight for it to do any good."

She nodded solemnly, taking note of the seriousness of his tone.

"You haven't told me how things went with Danielle today," he said while he began preparing for bed. "I assume you're still going to trial?"

"Only because Jackowicz tied my hands as far as negotiating a plea."

"I didn't think she'd go for Murder Two," he commented as he started towards the bathroom.

"I told you I'd offer Man One if I got this case," she sputtered. "How did you know I offered Murder Two instead?"

"Because I'm a DA not an ADA," he replied flippantly before closing the door." No way is Michael going to let this go with a Man One plea."

"More like because you're as stubborn as my boss is, even when he's wrong," she muttered while she waited for the door to open.


	5. Fantasy's and Fallacy's

"Un_freak_ing believable…," she muttered as she slammed the newspaper down on her desk top.

Even after forty five minutes on the Long Island railroad to digest the headline and lead story in the_ Islips Bulletin_ she had picked up on the way to work, Brooke Malinowski was fit to be tied. She reached for the receiver and pushed the intercom button before curtly instructing the secretary to 'find Danielle Melnick'. Forgetting the fragile state of her upper body she started to remove her coat and ended up grabbing the edge of the desk as a sharp spasm of pain shot through her side.

"Damn it," she cried out, just as her office door opened.

Without a word, the ruggedly attractive man steadied her, ignoring the startled look on her face as he carefully removed the wool coat from her frame.

"Thanks," she said with a sigh as she sat down. "As much as I appreciate your gallantry, I doubt you came all the way out here to play gentleman detective, Mike."

"Gentleman detective," Logan repeated with a smirk. "I've been called a lot of things, but that's a new one. 'Gentleman detective'...I kind of like it. Makes me feel like I'm Sam Spade or Nick Charles."

"Okay, Mr. Spade. What can I do for a hot shot Major Case detective before I have to be in court?"

"Hum. I am still temporarily assigned to SVU," he replied as he gave her a self conscious smile. "Wanna tell me about this report from Suffolk Memorial that got tossed on my desk this morning?"

Across the Brooklyn Bridge, Jack McCoy found himself having a similar conversation with another SVU detective.

"Detective, I don't know where you got the idea-"

Olivia Benson handed McCoy a copy of the report filed by Suffolk Memorial Hospital on emergency room patient Brooke Ann Malinowski.

"This report was sent to my Captain this morning," Benson explained as she watched McCoy read the paper in front of him. "Suffolk county forwarded the case to us since the victim is residing in New York county-"

"There is no 'victim' detective," McCoy said impatiently as he handed her the paper. "My fiancée had an accident in the shower while we were on a sailboat this weekend."

Benson nodded as she took out her pad and pen.

"You know better than anyone, Mr. McCoy, that when SVU gets a report we have to follow up. Now, if you can tell me the location of this boat..."

After a half an hour of waiting to hear from defense counsel and answering Detective Mike Logan's questions, Malinowski glanced at her watch and stood.

"Counselor, we're not done here," Logan said bluntly. "You still haven't explained how you broke that rib. If the shower on that boat is like the shower stalls I've seen on most sailboat it would be next to impossible for one person-"

"Damn it Logan, I have to be in court in fifteen minutes." She said as she flushed at the memory of the failed attempt at making a fantasy reality.

The lines on his forehead deepened, as Logan tried to read her unexpected reaction. Privately, Mike Logan doubted very much that anything abusive had happened to the ADA, no matter what the hospital report implied. Knowing the principals involved, Logan found the whole thing pretty unbelievable and had said so when Don Cragen had called Logan and his partner into the office.

Logan's candor only got him a prompt reminder from Olivia Benson that abusers and victims come in some unexpected varieties.

"You'll get to court a lot faster if you help me do my job and answer the question."

Malinowski swore to silently. She knew Logan was right, but she had bigger things on her mind than clearing up an obvious mistake by overzealous hospital staff. She wanted to confront Danielle Melnick about the article in the morning paper that gave such a one sided account of the life of the victim and the accused, that it was a certainty the jury pool throughout the county would be poisoned by it.

"Counselor," Logan said, jarring her out of her thoughts.

"Fine. I wasn't alone in the shower, Logan."

Logan shifted, unsuccessfully trying to hide his discomfort, as he motioned for her to continue.

"You really want the details, detective? Look, I had this stupid idea we should make love under a waterfall," she said hurriedly as she played with the tab of the file in front of her. "The shower on the boat was small, but it had duel shower heads so we were trying to … to get the angles right and. ...Well, neither one of us saw the bar of soap on the floor nor…Mike the bottom line is we were in the middle of the act, I slipped and I took Jack down with me. He landed right on top of me, that's probably why-"

"Got it," Logan interjected as he felt his own face start to heat up.

When Benson had asked him to do the jaunt out to Long Island so she wouldn't miss giving a deposition later that morning, Logan had been reluctant. As he listened to Malinowski, he wished he'd gone with his gut and pushed Benson to call the ADA and reschedule. It was one thing to listen to the details of a stranger's sex life, but to listen when he knew not one, bit both of the principals involved? The phrase 'too much information' kept ringing in his head ,as mental pictures flashed through his consciousness that made Logan glad he had his over coat resting on his lap.

"You're sure," Malinowski asked, as she reached for her briefcase. "I really don't want there to be any question in your mind about..."

"I got the picture, counselor," Logan said as he opened the office door. "Sorry to put you through this, but you know the statue."

"Mike, the statue says notification if there is reasonable evidence of a criminal assault or a series of unexplained injuries. I signed the waiver stating no abuse occurred. I mean, I know how it looks, but it's not like I'm a regular at Suffolk General. Do you know exactly how this report ended up being filed with the 1 6?"

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"I've been trying to reach you all morning," Malinowski hissed at opposing counsel as they met in front of Judge Henry Ellis's chambers. "We need to talk before we see the judge."

"Sorry Brooke," Melnick whispered as she reached for the knob. "I've been conferring with my client all morning. That's why I didn't return your calls. Now, you told me yourself how the judge feels about being kept waiting."

Malinowski shot the other woman a dagger look, sensing what was coming.

The slight man behind the desk turned his glance from the file he was reading to the two lawyers, while he motioned for them to sit.

"Your Honor-"

"Simmer down, Ms. Malinowski. I saw the morning paper, too," Ellis said impatiently as he turned his attention to Danielle Melnick. "Ms. Melnick, I don't know how much Manhattan's fines for contempt run, but I have my clerk researching that now. Once she reports back to me, I'm doubling that amount and citing you."

"My client exercised her first amendment right to free speech by granting that interview, your honor," Melnick replied reverently. "Even though I had no prior knowledge of her intent to do so, I must defend her right to..."

"You're saying you had no idea your client gave _The Bulletin_ a story that automatically turned this county's jury pool into a cesspool, as far as impartial jurors go?"

"Yes, your honor, I am."

Malinowski gave Melnick a scathing look before turning to Ellis.

"As highly unlikely as that is, even if Ms. Melnick isn't lying through her teeth, the damage has been done and the people are not only asking for santions against defense counsel, but -"

"Just because the prosecutor is having personal difficulties that indirectly relate to this case, doesn't mean..."

"'Personal difficulties', Ms. Melnick," the ADA demanded with fire in her eyes. "The only 'difficulty' I'm having at the moment is grasping how we can impanel a jury after your reckless stunt this morning's paper. Only an idiot would believe you client came up with that play all on her own."

"All right, both of you start acting like professions or I'll fine both of you," Ellis snapped. "First of all, Ms. Malinowski is right. I can't impanel an impartial jury from this county's jury pool now. That leaves us with a bench trial, Ms. Melnick."

"Which, with all due respect to your honor, takes away my client's constitutional right to a trial by jury, should she prefer it."

"Does she," Ellis asked.

"She does, your honor," Melnick replied, ignoring her opponent who rolled her eyes before she stood and faced the opposite window. "This is why defense counsel is asking your honor to grant our request for a change of venue."

Malinowski held her hand out, not bothering to face her opponent, as Melnick handed her the second copy of her motion.

"Madam Prosecutor, any objections by the people?"

"Aside from the appalling precedent deliberately poisoning the pool to ensure a venue change sets for future prosecutions?"

"If the DA's office has any evidence of wrong doing, I'd like to hear it," Melnick said with feigned indignation. "Had your honor issued a gag order prior to jury selection and my client had violated that order, I would agree that I had failed in my duties as an officer of the court, but that is not the case here. "

"As unhappy as I am with the present situation, I must agree with you Ms. Melnick," Ellis said just before the intercom on his desk buzzed. "Yes, Jennifer?"

"Your honor I have those contempt fine amounts for New York county," the voice on the other end announced.

"Thank you but I don't need them, after all Jennifer. At least, not right now," Ellis paused as looked impatiently at the prosecutor who stood with her back to him. "Do the people have any such evidence, counselor?"

Ellis's tone made the prosecutor turn back to facethe pair, as she responded.

"At such time as my office finds evidence of Ms. Melnick's role in this conspriarcy, not only we my office notify your honor, we will notify the state bar's disciplinary committee."

"Your honor," a wounded Melnick replied as she met Malinowski dagger stare with one of her own.

"Forget about it Ms. Melnick...if your nose is clean, you don't have to worry about anything unpleasant coming out... now do you? Defense motion for a venue change to New York County is granted."

"Thank you your honor," Melnick murmured.

"One other thing ladies. Being that I won't be trying this case, I have no reason to pursue Ms. Melnick concern regarding the 'personal difficulties' the peoples representative may or may not have regarding this matter. However, if you do indeed have legitimate concerns about Ms. Malinowski's ability to prosecute this case fairly for the record, I suggest you address them with her supervisor prior to the start of trial in New York County."

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Melnick thought she had made a clean escape, just before a hand caused the elevator door to resist closing.

"You high handed bitch."

"Just because you're Sam's ex wife, don't think I have to stand here and take that from you Brooke" Melnick began as she moved towards the closing doors.

Alone in the elevator car, Malinowski stepped in front of her, almost daring the other woman to try and pass.

"What's the matter Danielle? I'd of thought you'd want to gloat. You got what you wanted... though God only knows why changing venue would be worth the risk of disbarment for you."

"I wouldn't get into a battle over who's taking the higher moral ground on a case, Brooke," Melnick retorted as she pressed the button marked 'lobby'. "We both have paid a visit or two to the discipline committee."

"True. But I _am_ curious," Malinowski persisted. "Why the venue change? You know my office will still run the prosecution. Even if we weren't, you seem to know Jack's position on cases like this. I just don't see what you think you've gained."

Melnick rolled her shoulders as a victorious smile formed on her lips.

"Not that I had any control over what happened this morning, but I _will_ admit a venue change not only gives us a shot at a more…shall we say 'savvy' jury pool… but it the odds on drawing a more enlightened judge to hear the case. Did you know Suffolk county only has four females judges in its criminal courts division, where as New York county has 32?"

Malinowski shook her head as she abruptly reached for the emergency stop button. Melnick instinctively reached for the railing as the car came to a sudden stop between floors.

"Just what do you think you're doing Brooke," Melnick asked, her impatient tone thinly masking the apprehension she felt.

"Now I know what the games with venue where about now. I also want to know what you thought you'd gain by engineering a unwarranted investigation by Manhattan SVU into the injuries I know you heard about, after Sam made me go to the emergency room with him. Geez Danielle, did you think for one_ second_ about the fact screwing around with me took time away from _real_ victims those detectives could have been helping?"

"'Real victims'? Brooke, I don't know how you-"

"Come_ on_ Danielle," Malinowski asked contemptuously. "Either you talked to the hospital yourself or you talked Sam into doing it for you, after he told you about last night. I had that part figured out before you tried to divert Ellis's attention with that crap about 'personal issues' or whatever. I don't know what you thought that was going to buy you but..."

"Listen, maybe Jack hasn't told you about his background," Melnick responded with startling sincerity,"but he's told me enough for me to know if his girlfriend has broken ribs, a police report needs to be filed."

"Danielle we fell down in the shower...not that that's any of your business," Malinowski said incredulously. "My God, with friends like you, Jack hardly needs enemies. You've been friends for over twenty years and you really think he's capable..."

"You know_ anyone_ is capable of violence given right circumstances, Brooke," Melnick said as she reached passed to prosecutor and restarted the elevator. "As far as Jack goes, honestly, I didn't know what to think. As far as I know, he's never been physically abusive with any woman. But, I didn't see the harm in having the police check it out after Sam told me what happened."

"Manhattan SVU? _Manhattan..._ where Jack_ happens_ to be DA... and you didn't see the harm?!? This is bull Danielle. Did you hope the press would get wind of this and you could use it to somehow gain more sympathy for your client," Malinowski said as her patience gave out. "May be use it to put a spin on how if powerful men like the DA could beat their women into submission without punishment, a guy like Danny Crawford could as well? That kind of thinking might justify, in some people's minds, Crawford's wife buying a gun and shooting him with malice a fore thought."

Melnick shot across the lobby as the ADA galloped to catch up, Malinowski's adrenaline taking the edge off of the pain that ran through her, as she fought to rejoin Melnick.

"You're delusional Brooke," Melnick snapped as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"You better hope I am, because when I get back to my office, I'll have investigators from my office all over this and the article in today's paper. I hope your client is worth your license to practice, counselor."


	6. Waiting for Jack

After he motioning for another round of drinks, Jake Cohen listened as his best friend repeated the high points of her conversation with Danielle Melnick from earlier in the week. The pair were riding on a commuter train headed towards Manhattan that Friday evening. Thrilled that her assistant had received a guilty verdict that afternoon,thus freeing him to assist her in the Crawford case that was due to start jury selection that Monday, Malinowski had suggested buying Cohen a working dinner in Manhattan to bring each other up to speed professionally and personally.

"So how did Jack react to all of this," Cohen asked as consumed the last of his martini.

"Given he had already spent the morning describing our sex life to Olivia Benson, from Manhattan SVU? Better than expected. He made some remark about Danielle trying to break my rhythm on the case and blew it off. Said something about how after she inadvertantly passed messages for that Neo-Nazi guy a few years back and got shot for her trouble, nothing Danielle does surprises him anymore."

"You mean the nut case that had that Florida DA shot?"

Malinowski nodded as she absentmindedly twirled the straw in her tequila sunrise.

"That's the one. I swear if I was Sam, I'd think twice about getting serious with a woman that led assassins to DA. I mean, he _was_ a Fed once. Besides, Sam knew Mark Featherstone from the time Sam spent down south, right after law school. If he..."

"Now boss, it's not like Melnick was in on the hit," Cohen said warily. "I doubt she'll make the same mistake twice. Besides, I assume you told her you know all about Jack's childhood."

"The hell I did," she countered firmly. "No way am I discussing Jack's family history with Danielle or anybody else. The only reason you know is because you were staying at the house when I decided to play Nancy Drew and tried to trick him into telling me about it. No, I didn't respond at all to what Danielle said."

"I don't know," he said with shrug of his shoulders, "there could be more you might want to know. If not for your own piece of mind, to help you better understand what he went through."

"What do you mean 'for my own piece of mind'? Do you really think I'd stick around if he hit me? Can you really see that even happening? I mean, if anything, Jack can be almost _too_ passive during a fight," she said thoughtfully. "He either takes a walk or refuses to speak until he has control of himself. _I'm_ the one with the caustic mouth and sarcastic repartee."

"Which I'm sure makes life interesting for both of you," Cohen added with a grin."I'm just saying…well, for example…this case. You said Jack agrees with Michael, that murder one for a battered wife who shot her batterer, makes sense?"

"Yeah, it's like talking to Jackowicz or a wall on that subject. No room for compromise at all."

"Does he ever talk about why he feels so strongly?"

"It's not like he can read the case file," she said impatiently. "Which is why I'm anxious to have you take a closer look and give me some feedback. If Clint, Michael, _and_ Jack see it as a murder one case, maybe there's just something I'm not seeing. I mean, how often to do those three see eye to eye on_ anything,_ including the law?"

Cohen gave her a sharp glance, almost immediately shifting his gaze back to his martini glass.

"What," she demanded suspisiously.

"Why are you doubting your gut on this case, "he asked bluntly, as the frown on his face deepened."That's not like you. That's not like you at all."

"Come on Jake, I ask for your opinion on cases all the time," she countered.

"You mean you_ give_ me my opinion on cases all the time," he said with a wink.

"Yeah, right. You're a regular 'Stepford Assistant 'aren't you,"she asked, with a sigh. "I don't know…maybe Danielle playing the sisterhood card last week got to me more than it should. Do I want to let this woman off with man one because the crime fits the statue or because, as a woman, I think she deserves an award for blowing away her abuser?"

Cohen nodded in understanding. In his time with the DA's office, he'd seen enough domestic violence cases to know where Malinowski was coming from.

"Remember Brooke, a woman's abuser is also often, her children's father. Jack may think his old man was a real SOB, but image the total mind screw a kid goes through when Mommy kills Daddy. Even if Daddy is a violent alcoholic."

"We were walking about Danny Crawford here, not Officer John McCoy," she retorted as the train began to slow and a series of signs reading: Grand Central came into view.

"_We're_ not. But maybe you and Jack _should_ be."

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The pair had worked through before dinner drinks, an ample appetizer platter, dinner, and were almost through dessert when Cohen glanced at the Omega watch on his wrist and started closing files.

"Hey, what's we're are you going Jake? The deal was, I got dinner so I could get you up to speed before Monday," Malinowski complained as she began reopening the folders.

"Up to speed is one thing boss, by rote memory is quite another," her assistant retorted, while finishing his last bite of cheesecake. "If I don't get on the next train, William's going to think my birthday watch is defective or worse yet that I'm _defective,_at least in the consideration department. Do you realize it's almost midnight?"

"What? That can't be. Jack was going to join us when he finished his speech at the Bar Association," she said as she glanced at her own timepiece.

"Listen, I really need to move if I want to catch the 11:47," he said leaning over to get her a quick hug as he latched the leather case. "Do you want to share a cab?"

Malinowski shook her head as she signaled to the waitress.

"Get out of here, Jake. I'm fine. I'll close out and give Jack a call. Sorry about the time, I had no idea it was so late."

"No worries."

Malinowski reached into her purse as she watched Cohen vanish outside the double doors of the _Westside Steakhouse_. The restaurant had two features that had made it the logical choice for her working dinner with Cohen. It was had the best food of any restaurant either of them had tried, within a four block radius of Grand Central station. It also had tables large enough to accommodate the avalanche of documents the pair had to review for the Crawford case before starting trial in Manhattan the following Monday.

After unsuccessfully trying both McCoy's office and cell phone numbers, Malinowski finished gathering the remainder of documents as the waitress approached with her, check in hand.

"Anything else?"

Malinowski hesitated. Although her body was begging for the relief of a hot bath and a pain pill, her knowledge of Bar association functions told her McCoy was running late and was more than likely on his way.

"How about adding one more drink to the tab and closing me out?'

"Sure, honey. Another sunrise?"

"Let's make the last one a double," she said with self medication on her mind.

"A double? That sounds pretty strong for a light weight country shyster, Malinowski," Mike Logan commented, as he came up from behind the waitress.

"Logan? Since when did you leave Major Cases, SVU, or where ever it is they have yo uassigned now, to join the Manhattan Temperance League," the ADA asked with a surprised laugh as the waitress left to fill her order."Or do you make it a habit to cruise the bars every Friday night to make sure the streets are safe from inebriated members of the bar?'

"Actually, I wasn't cruising," Logan said smugly. "I was on a date."

"Really," she asked looking passed him towards the door to the bar.

"What do you mean 'really'? Believe it or not Malinowski, they're are women in this city that enjoy my company."

"No, no , no. I just didn't see anyone...",she began.

"She's with the 1 6," he explained. "Trouble with dating another cop is we never make it through a whole meal.One of our beepers always goes off. This time it was hers. I just put her in a cab and came back to clear the tab."

"Mike you want another," the waitress asked as she set Malinowski's drink down.

The detective looked inquiringly at the ADA, who nodded as she waved a hand at the empty seat across from her.

"What about you counselor," Logan remarked after ordering another scotch and soda. "Friday night and it's just you and your briefs?"

Logan had wanted to ask that question since he noticed Malinowski and Cohen a little more than an hour before, when he had been on his way back to the bar from the men's room. He had turned when he heard a strangely familiar laugh, surprised to see the Suffolk County ADA dining with someone other than her fiancée.

"Cute, Logan," she began. "I suppose you're also the dining police, as well?"

He nodded and she explained the reason for Cohen joining her and the fact her fiancée was missing in action. While he knew his own 'date' with Olivia Benson was really more of a working dinner as well, he knew Brooke Malinowski was off the market and he saw no reason to let his own availability be known.

As he listened his mind went back to where it had been on and off since he had interviewed her a few days before.

_"I had this stupid idea that we should make love under a waterfall__…__"_

While he and Benson worked a stake out earlier that day, Logan passed the time remembering his vacation a few years before in Hawaii. He and his girlfriend at the time had the same idea. He recalled the total sense of abandonment that he had felt making love under a secluded waterfall in the lush island paradise. The image of his girlfriend faded and his mind imaged that scene with the spirited auburn haired lawyer from Suffolk county.

The hospital report had made Logan aware of how close in age the two were, the counselor a mere four years his junior. The photographs that were included to document the injuries to her torso and rib cage – while not _Penthouse_ material – gave Logan's imagination more to work with, given some of the angles used.

"Hey, Logan? Do I need to get a medic over here," Malinowski said as she tapped his forearm. "Did I lose you? Maybe a little CPR 's in order?"

"Sorry counselor. I just came off a twelve hour stake out," Logan said as he focused his attention on his drink, not trusting himself to meet the inquisitive blue eyes.

"Too bad," she said.

Logan's eyes shot up and Malinowski flushed.

"I meant, because you had that date that got away," she said quickly explaining.

"Got it. So, how are you feeling these days? Last time I saw you, you were all about aches and pains."

Malinowski nodded as she sipped at her drink.

"Never better Logan, never better. Haven't had time for the pain in my ribs, with that pain in my ass getting worse every day, thanks to Danielle Melnick."

Logan's eyes shot up and he fought to swallow the liquor he had just drunk. Danielle Melnick was a name most career detectives knew well, Logan being no exception.

"Don't tell me you're gonna let some Park Avenue defense attorney get the best of you, counselor?"

"Logan, give me a break. First of all, I said she's a pain in my ass, I didn't say I hadn't been returning the favor. Second of all, if you 'counselor me' one more time, I'm gonna think you have me confused with your shrink," she retorted with a chuckle.

"You know 'Malinowski' after four glasses of whiskey is a sobriety test, right," Logan said with equal humor as he glanced at her bare ring finger. "Still too soon to call you McCoy…"

"I _do_ have a first name Logan. After all the times you've had my back... with that whole mess with John Prescott, as well as that idiotic report from the hospital...Not to mention the fact if I hadn't ran you the night Jack proposed... I probably wouldn't even be marrying Jack if you hadn't talked some sense into me that night. Anyway, you're a friend Logan and my friend's usually call me Brooke."

The detective laughed. His hearty laugh came partly to cover his immediate shame given the nature of his of his thoughts…thoughts a friend of any future bride had no business having. The laugh also came from the surprise he felt at the unexpected compliment of being thought of in such a trusted light.

"Hey Brooke, don't put that decision on me,especially when things get rocky with tall, grey, and arrogant. Oh wait,they already have, that's how you two got into trouble with that hospital report," Logan said before seeing the dagger look on his new friends face.

"We got into trouble because I have a nosy ex husband and his girlfriend wants to play Betty Friedan with my murder case," she grumbled into her drink.

"Hey counsel- Brooke, I didn't mean to hit a nerve," Logan said with genuine concern. "You know it's a dead issue. Benson talked to McCoy and when we compared notes your stories were close enough for us to know they were the real deal. Enough of your stories matched... although there were enough inconsistencies to know it wasn't rehearsed. When we filed our report, Cragen agreed. It's a dead issue. We just assumed some overzealous orderly was involved and ..."

"I wish it were that simple," Malinowski replied, as she checked her watch."The case I'm prosecuting against Melnick's client involves battered wife syndrome as a defense for murder. I can't prove it yet, but I have no doubt when Danielle heard about those stupid bruises, she thought she'd not only try to generate some publicity to draw attention to how anyone ...including the ADA prosecuting the case... could be 'victimized' by a powerful man; but that she'd use the incident to send a subtle reminder to Jack that given his experience with domestic violence,he could show a little more sympathy..."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down a minute," a puzzled Logan interjected, his eyes narrowing. "Given what? What do you mean McCoy's 'experience with domestic violence'? I know he's been married a couple of times…are you saying..?"

Malinowski was beat red with embarrassment, as well as annoyance, at her slip of the tongue. She had meant what she said to Cohen hours earlier, when she stated she didn't intend to discuss McCoy's personal business with anyone, friend or foe. She had learned a valuable lesson about honesty and trust when she had tried to manipulate details of his violent childhood out for him almost a year before. She knew how much McCoy valued his privacy. Malinowski had no intention of crossing that invisable line twice.

As much as she liked and respected the attractive detective, she knew how her fiancée would view a discussion. of his own childhood.

"Geez, Mike get a grip. You sound as crazy as that Melnick woman. Jack never abused anybody, except defendants in a courtroom! He certainly never abused either of his wives."

"What experience with domestic violence were you talking about then," he pressed.

Although he'd only spoken with the ADA a handful of times, those times had been lengthy and full of personal detail. He knew Malinowski's evasive response was out of character. In spite of the fact he found the idea of Jack McCoy being violent with any woman difficult to accept, her elusive reply made him edgy and eager to persist in getting a real answer.

"Look, Mike. You know how many cases Jack has handled...thousands... probably tens of thousands. In major felonies he's seen it all. Domestic violence,spouses killing spouses, hiring a hit man to do the job for them..."

Logan shook his head, knowing a con job when he heard one. He reached across the table and squeezed her hand and waited for her to meet his unwavering stare.

"Brooke, we're friends, right? Friends are there for each other. What one friend tells another friend stays between them, right? "

"Mike I swear, Jack has _never_ laid a hand on me in anger-," she began, alarmed by the look of outrage in the dark eyes that compelled her to hold his gaze.

Logan nodded, unexpectedly thinking of his own 'domestic violence' experiences.

"Then this experience happened before you came along? How bad was it Brooke? How bad and was McCoy the attacker, the victim, a witness, or any combination of the above?"


	7. The Death of a DA

Jack McCoy downed the last of his nightcap. The grandfather clock read a few minutes after two and McCoy was contemplating whether to go back out and try to retrace his fiancées steps. When he arrived home shortly before one, he had assumed Malinowski was on her way home from the steakhouse, after a late night seesion of prepping, with her assistant.

Impulsively he reached for this cell phone, only to remember he had forgotten to charge the battery and the phone was dead. The oversite had also made it impossible for him to reach the fiancée earlier in the evening, to notify her he had been delayed by an unavoidable scene at the bar association dinner, after he had made his speech.

After stripping off the tux jacket and removing the dangling strip of cloth from his neck, McCoy had called the steakhouse from the lofts land line, only to be told Malinowski had left nearly a half hour before his call. Assuming she was on her way home, McCoy had poured himself a drink and sat down to wait.

He glanced at the clock again and gave a fleeting thought to calling the local precinct and using his new found clout as DA to have some uniforms keep an eye out for his future wife. Remembering the reaction she'd had when he had the locals track her down at the law library only a few months before, he discarded the idea, for the time being.

He decided to give it another half hour, remembering how often time had gotten away from him when he had a big cases to prepare for. Besides, another half hour would give him a little more time to unwind from an evening that had turned into one long chain of disasters.

First, the car had been late. When McCoy finally entered the bar association dinner, the waiters were almost finished clearing the dinner dishes. With half a dinner roll and a glass of water to sustain him, McCoy began the speech that was scheduled to kick off a list of speakers. After a series of technical problems and the sense of an unexpectedly chilly reception, McCoy made it through the speech, only to begin playing the waiting game. A game which included polite applause and quiet table chatter in between speakers for another two hours.

After saying good night to the President of the local Bar, McCoy thought he just might be able to slip out without being snagged by a colleague, acquaintance, or a reporter and make to the steakhouse before they stopped serving dinner at eleven o'clock. Then he heard a voice that, on any other night would have sounded like music to his ears, coming from behind him.

McCoy turned to give his former assistant a hug. As the pair went through the usual pleasantries, McCoy noticed the troubled look on Judge Jamie Ross's face.

"Jamie, this is an unexpected pleasure. I thought you and Dave were scheduled to be in Albany until the end of the month. Is everything all right?"

"Dave and I are fine," Ross replied hurriedly, as the hall began to fill with other guests that left the banquet room. "Jack, I do you have a few minutes? There is something I think you need to hear, in private?"

McCoy put aside the urge to press her and offered Ross his arm. In the time he had worked with Jamie Ross, McCoy had found that if his attractive assistant thought something was important enough to bring to his attention, it was something well worth hearing.

The pair walked around the corner and into an empty banquet room. After closing the heavy double doors, McCoy turned back to Ross, eyebrows raised.

Ross toyed with the turquoise wrap that matched the strapless evening gown she was wearing. After spending the evening seated next to Danielle Melnick and her date, Ross had heard enough of the couples 'table chatter' to know Jack McCoy's friend of more than twenty years was trending on thin ice. Rosses fear was if the ice gave, Melnick would take McCoy down with her.

"Jamie, is everything all right at home," McCoy asked with growing concern. "Did something happen to Katie or Dave-?"

"Everyone's fine Jack," Ross said quickly. "Everything at my place is fine. The question is, how are things at yours?"

"Brooke and I are fine," he said, even more mystified. "If we ever get a moment without one of our phones or beepers going off, I think we might even set a date for the wedding. But I hardly think that's what you brought me in here to discuss."

"Jack, I really wish it was," she replied with a sigh, while she tried to decide what the gentlest way was to tell the DA of his good friend's activities.

"Come on Jamie. Just spit it out. If this is about your ruling on that arrest warrant last month ... you know I reserve my grudges for defense counsel, not judges."

"Well at least I know your vengeance will be directed in the right direction."

"Not if you plan to keep talking in riddles," he retorted, working hard to keep the impatience out of his voice. "Listen Jamie, it's late and Brooke is waiting for me. If there's something you want to tell me, let's hear it."

"You're not going to like it," she said with a sigh. "Look, I know how far you and Danielle Melnick go back … Jack, do you know how that report that got filed with the 1 6, the one about your fiancée's hospital visit?"

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"**_Danielle_**," a livid baritone thundered a few feet from the startled defense attorney.

Melnick and Sam Prescott were chatting at the cab stand in front of the Four Seasons Hotel, when McCoy caught up with the couple. McCoy's tone told her he was in no mood to mince words or participate in their usual banter. The expression on his face told left no doubt in Melnick's mind as to the cause of his distress.

After a word to Prescott, she moved to meet him far enough from the cab stand as to be assured she was out of the lover's earshot.

"Jack, that was some speech tonight. After all these years, you would think you would have grasped the guidelines for exculpatory evidence..."

"Save your critique for pillow talk with Prescott," he snapped as glared down at her. "I defended you when Brooke said you had a hand in that emergency room report ending up at the 1 6. I told her, after knowing you for almost a quarter century, I felt confident you knew what kind of man I was, obviously I was wrong."

"Jack that has nothing to do with ..."

"It has everything to do with it," he thundered. "No wonder Hazel Bennett from Legal Aid was glaring at me all night! Half her cases are domestic violence cases…she probably thinks the DA is just another closet batterer!"

"Jack, the 1 6 cleared you," Melnick countered as she nervously glanced at the small crowd gathering behind him. "This really isn't the place..."

"Don't play games with me Danielle. I know you tipped off the 1 6. I also know you've made it known to several prominent members of the Manhattan legal community, that it looks like the ADA on the Crawford case has an abusive boyfriend. As it if would take someone like Hazel Bennett more than a couple of hours to find out that boyfriend is the DA of her own county. What the hell were you thinking, Danielle?"

"Danielle is there a problem here," asked a concerned voice behind the defense attorney.

"Answer me, Danielle," McCoy demanded, ignoring Sam Prescott's inquiring gaze. "Did you think that somehow putting on this farce would give you grounds to ask to have Brooke recuise herself from the Crawford case? That you might draw an ADA that might actually accept that so call plea bargain you tried to get by her?"

"How dare you question my ethics, after some of the stunts you've pulled," Melnick shot back angrily.

"Stunts? You want to talk about _stunts_," McCoy countered while he shifted his accusing stare to Prescott."You tell me Sam ,which sounds more irresponsible to a former prosecutor? Planting grounds to get a ADA removed from a case to give a defense attorney the bet shot at an acquittal or a defense attorney that is so naive that she lets herself be used as a messenger for one of her homicidal clinets, resulting in the death of a DA in another state..."

"_Jack, _how could you," Melnick gasped.

"Now Jack," Prescott interjected as he protectively stepped in front of his date. "I don't know what this messenger business is about, but as far as the other, Danielle was genuinely concerned about Mal when I told her about those bruises. Quite frankly, given your background, I did see any harm in having the police..."

McCoy's look of outrage immediately transformed into the same kind of look he had the last time he'd played basketball and had a ball knock the wind out of him.

"My background," he said to himself, before turning his attention to Prescott. "You know Sam, as someone who's known Danielle for almost three decades, I think you might want to focus your energies on learning the details of the alustrous career of Danielle Melnick, as opposed to my tortured childhood. Let's start with the blood on her hands from the murder of DA Mark Featherstone in North Carolina about the time you went into witness protection..."

"Stop it Jack," Melnick pleaded as she looked up into Prescott's dumbfounded eyes. "You know the only reason that a happened was that Marxist ruling by Judge..."

"Mark Featherstone is_ dead_," Prescott said in amazement. "No, you said this happened in North Carolina? The Featherstone I worked with had been a DA in Florida for the last several years."

McCoy met Melnick's shining eyes before looking at the pavement, as he responded somberly.

"He was on a hunting trip out of state when it happened, Sam. I'm sorry you had to hear it this way. But if you're going to be involved with Ms. Melnick, maybe you better learn take her cause of the day with a grain of salt. Especially when she enlists you in a ploy to undermine your ex-wife."


	8. Midnight Madness

McCoy's mind was still on the stricken looks on the faces of Melnick and Prescott when he heard the muffled sound of laughter coming from the other side of the front door. Assuming it was of the other tenants returning home, he started towards the bathroom. Just before turning to close the door, McCoy heard the deadbolt slide back on the front door.

From the darkened bathroom doorway, he watched with a combination of surprise and increasing annoyance, as his fiancée fumbled in the darkness for the light switch by the door, while she exchanged amusing comments with a detective, whose low voice that McCoy immediately recognized. With the faintest pang of guilt, McCoy pushed the door forward, leaving it at slightly a jar.

"So where is the great man," Logan asked as he scanned the dimly lit kitchen and living area of the loft.

Malinowski took a few steps towards the bed at the other end of the room and frowned, while she let Logan remove her coat.

"Now I _am_ a little worried," she said, returning her gaze to the detective. "When he didn't answer his cell, I figured he'd come back here and crashed after the speech. Maybe I better think about calling the local precinct or maybe some of his friends that were..."

"Relax counselor... damn I did it again... I mean, Brooke. Relax, Brooke. It's a little after two. You said Ross and some of his other former assistants were going, right? McCoy probably went out for a night cap with a few of them. I wouldn't sweat for at least another hour."

"Spoken like a confirmed bachelor, Michael," she said with a smirk as she moved towards the kitchen. "I appreciate you walking me up, but it's late. You want a cup of coffee while I call you a cab?"

Logan debated the wisdom of accepting the offer as he swayed ever so slightly. The prospect of spending more time chatting with his found friend was tempting, but the idea of explaining his presence to the DA, was less appealing.

Regretfully Logan shook his head as he placed her coat on the rack.

"I'll take a rain check, Brooke. _Elaine's_ is only a few blocks over from you. I'll catch a cab with the late theater crowd. But I appreciate the offer."

"Listen, _I _appreciate your little pep talk. Now, if I can just put those words of wisdom to good use the next time an opportunity presents itself."

Logan leaned against the door frame, contemplating her words and the amount of liquor they had consumed the hour and half they had spent discussing Logan's childhood. He couldn't remember discussing his alcoholic mother with anyone since the untimely death of his former partner. Lennie always had a way of getting into Logan's soul, of making it seem natural to talk about the demons of being a child of an abusive alcoholic. Maybe it was due to Briscoe's own demons involving the bottle, Logan wasn't sure.

At the steakhouse he had tried to bait Malinowski into spilling the details of McCoy mysterious 'experience with domestic violence' by letting a few 'teaser's' about his own child appear to 'accidently' come out. But the experienced prosecutor was too savvy for that. Before Logan knew it, she'd ordered them another round and turned the tables.

She put him at ease, much the way she did a nervous witness or even a distraught friend, causing him to inadvertently dominate the conversation. By the time they left the steak house, Malinowski had tears in her eyes and Logan felt a closer bond to the woman he had been discreetly admiring most of the evening.

"The words are only wise because of the lady who inspired them," he said sincerity that surprised them both.

Malinowski flushed almost as brightly as Logan.

"Come on Mike, talking about your Mom… I know that was tough. I still can't believe how candid you were with me. I know it wasn't an easy topic…very personal…it's something I'm sure you consider a private matter. That's something you and Jack both share. You're both men that think they can take on the world. Yet, when it comes to admitting there are things in your own private worlds that you could use help with, you both revert to that stereotypical stoicism your people are famous for."

"Well I guess that's better than you calling us martyrs,' he said with a chuckle as she joined him by the door.

"That was next," she added without missing beat.

"You give McCoy this much wise ass," he asked with a sigh, while his nose caught a fleeting whiff of her perfume. "No wonder he's not back yet."

Malinowski moved closer, her hands on her hips as she gave him a playful glare, her face inches from his own.

"You're callin' _me_ as wise ass? Come on Logan, what about all that blarney you handed me about Jack and his assistants on the cab ride back here? I'd say I'm a mere novice compared you, detective."

"You make it too easy," he said undaunted. "You should have seen the look on your face when I told you I walked in on McCoy and Southerlyn doing the deed in interrogation…I could see the wheels spinning in your head…trying figure out if McCoy had enough going on to make a lesbian switch teams for a night."

"Shut up Michael," she said as she reached out to smack his arm, much the way she would have Cohen during one of their battle of wills. After self medicating for several hours, she momentarily forgot about her tender back and ribs. As she smacked Logan a sudden spasm of pain shot up her spine and she instinctively grabbed his arm to steady her.

Logan reached around, pulling her into an embrace to steady her.

"Thanks, Mike," she said breathlessly and without thinking, she rested her hands on his shoulders as she gave him peck on the cheek.

Logan smiled down at her, as their eyes met. Malinowski was oblivious to the fatigue, as well as the pain he felt. She suddenly felt wide awake and aware of the stillness of the loft and the question in Mike Logan's eyes.

"Brooke, I-"

Before Logan could finish, the sound a toilet flushing, caused the pair to jump. Belatedly, Malinowski noticed McCoy's tux jacket and tie on the seat of one the barstools at the kitchen counter. As the pair turned towards the source of the sound McCoy stepped out of the bathroom.

"Counselor, Brooke was just about to form a search party for you," Logan said as Malinowski stepped away from him.

"I was about to do the same, "McCoy countered as he walked into the kitchen, deliberately refusing to meet Malinowski's quizzical eyes. "Had I known my fiancée was_ with_ one of New York finest, I wouldn't have given her absence a second thought."

"Actually, I ran into the lady while she was waiting for you," Logan replied bluntly, when he saw the look on Malinowski's face. "Standing a beautiful woman up can open up a can of worms, counselor."

"Don't you have somewhere to be at this hour detective," McCoy said as he poured himself another drink, in no mood to trade banter with the fellow Irishman.

Before Logan could reply, Malinowski had the door open. After thanking him again for seeing her home, she met his concerned gaze with a firm squeeze on the arm.

"Mike, I'm fine,' she said softly while she put the open door between herself and McCoy's line of site. "I'm sure I'll talk to you soon."

"Our paths _do_ seem to have a way of crossing."

Malinowski nodded as she stepped back to close the door.

"It's good to know you can find company so easily when I'm not around."

"If you want to do sarcasm Jack, let's talk about you and that stunt with the bathroom, just now. I've been home at least fifteen minutes. What happened to you in the bathroom? Did you fall in or did you just like the view better from the doorway?"

"I didn't expect you to bring somebody home with you Brooke," he said shortly as began to remove his cufflinks. "I certainly didn't want to intrude on you and your drinking buddy."

"I'm not going to fight with you over Mike Logan and a kiss on the cheek. Not after drinking as much as I have and not at two in the morning." she countered wearily as she dropped herself onto the sofa and carefully reached for a shoe. "Damn it Jack, it's not like you found us in bed together."

"Only because voyeurism doesn't do it for me," he shot back as he raised the glass in his hand.

Malinowski glared at him, as she tossed a discard shoe in his direction. McCoy easily dodged the shoe that had been aimed at his shin. He automatically set the glass down and exchanged it for the shoe. His patience exhuasted after his encournter with Melnick, his judgment dull after too much drink, and his mind on the look he'd seen pass between his fiancée and the detective, he caught the shoe before it hit the ground and in a single motion, threw it with enough force to shatter the glass vase on the end table beside the sofa.

Malinowski jumped back from the shower of glass and stared at McCoy; eyes wide, jaw dropped.

"You know damn well if you walked in on a scene like that between me and another woman, you'd jump to the same conclusion. You're not stupid Brooke. Don't treat me like I am."

Malinowski fought to steady her trembling body. She knew he was right. She knew better than to sit in a bar and drink for hours with a guy like Mike Logan. A guy that was drop dead gorgeous, not to mention charming, as well as funnier than hell, and ...whether he said so in so many words ...oh so clearly available.

She could feel her face glow as McCoy reached for his tuxedo jacket and keys. The redness stemming not so much from the frightening display she'd just witnessed, but from the realization that she had not only inadvertently put a friendship at risk, but a relationship far more important to her.

"Jack, don't go."

McCoy swung around after opening the door and looked towards the glass that littered the floor.

"I think its best if..."

"You're right," she injected sorrowfully, as she moved towards him, her hand reaching out to push the door closed."I wasn't thinking. It was late. I'd been drinking…it was stupid to … too easy to send the wrong signals."

McCoy could see that her hands were shaking. Her eyes were shiny and wide with what he assumed was terror such a violent display. McCoy himself felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't remember the last time he lost control like that. He knew better than most, what that kind blind anger could result in.

He stared down at her tear streaked face, into the sad blue eyes that suddenly looked so much like his mother's. The pleading tone…the sound of breaking glass, causing his head to pound …he could feel his throat begin to tighten as his breathing became shallow…

"Honey, I'm so sorry. Please Jack, you have to know I would have never let it go any further..."

"Don't," he whispered as he reached for the knob.

"Jack you can't just walk out on me," she pleaded while placing her hand on his. "You can't just leave -"

Malinowski could see him winch as he closed his eyes.

It was a scene he remembered only too well: Too much liquor, too much yelling, the sound of things breaking, dreams shattering into a million pieces...

A scene that would either dovetail into a regretful prelude to a melancholy trip to the bedroom or escalate into a seemingly endless series of slaps and punches that would eventually end with the front door slamming and the sound of uncontrollable sobs…

_"For God's sake Mom, don't beg him…"_


	9. The Morning After

McCoy awoke to the pounding of his temples and the morning sun beating down on his face as it shined through the window his bedroom window. He grudgingly opened his eyes. With a groan, he immediately fell back on to his pillow and closed them. After the pounding in his head fell into a moderate bear, he made another attempt to face the morning sun.

This time, his eyes stayed open as he took in his surroundings. He was surprised to find himself alone in his own apartment. It took him a few seconds to recall the circumstances that had brought him back to modest dwelling. He reached for the robe on the floor, before slowly making his way to the kitchen.

By the time he had started a pot of coffee, McCoy had begun to mentally shift through the events of the night before. Logan and Brooke…the shattered glass on the floor…her tears….waking up in a cab in front of his building…

_Logan and Brooke… what the hell was I thinking_, he asked himself miserably, as he took his first gulp of coffee. Before he could think of an answer, he heard a soft tap on the front door, followed by a key turning the lock.

"I can give you your key and leave if you want me to," she said as she leaned against the door.

She looked pretty much the way he felt...disheveled. The auburn locks wild and unkept, the sweat suit a mass of wrinkles presumably from being slept in, the dark circles under her eyes betraying the weariness of her mind and body.

"Buy you a cup of coffee before you go," he asked, pulling another cup from the drain board as she nodded. "Did you sleep at all? You look like hell."

"Not you," she said with a smirk, following him to kitchen table."Dark circles and five o'clock shadow becomes you, especially with that 'finger in the light socket' thing your hair's doing."

McCoy bit back a smile as they eyed each other cautiously over the rims of their mugs.

"Danielle Melnick called this morning," Malinowski said thoughtfully. "Seems she wants to make amends for last night."

McCoy nodded, the turmoil at the bar association dinner a distant memory.

"We've had fallings out before. She knows what she has to do to make things right."

Malinowski eyed him curiously and waited.

"Chocolate," he explained with the slightest hint of a smile. "Preferably in the form of a chocolate torte."

"Yeah well, apparently Sam isn't that easily appeased," she replied, her eyes holding a look of amusement. "Danielle asked me if I'd heard from him. Apparently he didn't stay with her last night. You want to fill me in?"

Happy to dance around their own problems as long as he could, McCoy stood and opened the refrigerator door. As he gathered the ingredients for eggs and toast, he recalled the events of the previous evening. Malinowski listened with a combination of satisfaction at having her gut instincts confirmed and sorrow at knowing how painful it had to be for her lover, to know Melnick had used him to further her own ends on a case.

"Wow. That revelation might be enough to finish that relationship," Malinowski commented as she took one the two plates from McCoy, several minutes later. "Mark Featherstone was one of Sam's oldest friends. With everything else going on when he came back, I never did tell Sam about Mark's death."

"Well, I'm certainly not proud of telling him last night," McCoy remarked as he toyed with the eggs on his plate."I said a lot of things last night that were better left unsaid."

"Things you never would have said if you hadn't been provoked," she murmured as she focused on buttering a slice of toast.

"I wasn't just talking about what I said to Sam."

"Neither was I."

McCoy shook his head and waited for her to look up from her toast. Little of what happened after he left the loft was clear in his mind. His head had been pounding when he left, due to a combination of too much to drink, too little food in his stomach and too much drama to sort through both before and after reaching the loft. It was well after three a m when he had been abruptly awaken by a cabby impatiently wanting payment for the ride to McCoy's building.

What was clear in his mind was the caustic exchange and the image of the shattered vase on the chestnut floor.

"Brooke, look at me," he said while reaching across the table and taking the butter knife out of her hand."I had no business breaking that vase or talking to you the way I did."

"Hey, I threw a shoe at you," she said with a weak half smile.

"Hardly the same thing, Brooke" he said impatiently as his eyes searched hers."Throwing a shoe doesn't come close to justifying what I did."

"Maybe not, but throwing Mike Logan at you might."

McCoy's eyes widened. He remembered the look that had made him beat a hasty retreat from his vantage point behind the bathroom door he'd deliberately kept a jar. It was a look he knew well. The look of a man asking how far was too far, waiting for the nod or smile or another other form of nonverbal permission to take the next step with a woman his found desirable.

What troubled him wasn't so much the look on Logan's face. McCoy was well aware other men found his fiancée desirable. What troubled him was the easy rapport he'd witnessed between the pair.

What troubled him the_ most_ was the Malinowski's hesitation to send a swift response to Logan's inquiring gaze.

"Did you want to sleep with him," he responded softly, his eyes on the butter knife he taken from her.

"No."

As a woman she knew the most truthful of responses would have required much more than her one word reply. It was a deliberately prompt, yet not unthinking, response. A response she thought her fiancée very much needed to hear without pretense or preamble.

Despite a deep sense of guilt for her role the events of the previous night; Malinowski had a strong sense of self preservation. A sense that was strong enough to override any ideas of bearing her sole to her fiancée about her momentary lapse with the detective. No matter how much guilt she felt, Malinowski wasn't going to risk the life she'd started with Jack McCoy with a spontaneous outpouring meant to appease a guilty conscious.

That was a discussion to save for another time, with another man.

McCoy leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised, and a sad half smile on his lips. The well timed response made him think of this time on the witness stand during the Hawthorne mess. His answers had been given much like Malinowski's answer had been: To the point, well timed as to not appear rehearsed, given with a careful, even, tone…

"I didn't ask you if you _planned_ on sleeping with him, Brooke. I asked you if you _wanted_ to sleep with him."

"I know what you asked me, Jack," she snapped, annoyed more at herself than him, for not realizing how easily he'd see through her,"and I answered you. I'm sorry if you're unhappy with my response."

"I'm not unhappy with your response. I'm unhappy that's not a genuine one," he countered.

"You think I want to sleep with another man?"

"I think you're giving me the Webster's condensed version of an answer," he said bluntly."The answer I want is the one you'd give Jake if he were the one asking the question, Brooke. What aren't you telling me?"

Malinowski met his no nonsense gaze with a quiet sigh.

"You know the next step is finishing each other's sentences, right? Do you realize you know me far too well?"

"It cuts both ways," he said as his smile grew and he reached for her hand. "You're the woman that can read my inner thoughts. Remember how you were dead on about the sailboat? Come on Brooke, isn't it better to have this conversation now, as opposed to after the wedding?"

Malinowski smiled back, reassured by McCoy's quiet words.

"Like I said last night, I would have never let it get that far. Last night or any other time. I like Mike... the way I like Jake. I will spare you a list of his attributes, but I think you know what a good friend he has been to me."

McCoy nodded as he reached for his coffee cup.

"Logan's a hot head, but I would agree, he's a decent human being. Just not a human being I expected to see after midnight with you."

"Listen, I was waiting for you. We ran into each other and time got away from us..., "she began.

"Stop hedging. If you can't or won't give..."

"Jack. I was flattered, alright," she admitted with more than a little embarrassment. "I'm almost fifty, Jack. When a man looks at a woman like Mike looked at me … I'd be lying if I didn't say it felt good."

"Brooke, you're a beautiful woman," McCoy sputtered. "You don't need Mike Logan or anybody else to..."

"I didn't say I _needed_ anything, I just said it felt good," she said as she stood up and took the empty plates. "I know it sounds pathetically vain. I know you love me, Jack. Nothing was going to happen. It wasn't about..."

McCoy closed the dishwasher as he turned her to face him and surprised her with a kiss.

He remembered the way he'd felt when he reached the half century mark himself. Between marriages at that milestone, as well as at an impasse in his career, McCoy had placated his own sense of mortality catching up to him with too many late nights and too many considerably younger women.

When he thought about his not too distant one night stand with Samantha Weaver, McCoy didn't have to hear anymore to understand what his fiancée had been trying so hard not to say.

"I know what it was about," he whispered after the kiss was over.

"I swear, I _never_ would have..."

McCoy silenced her assurances with another kiss while he took her in his arms. Taking care not to press her lower body, he held her upper back, as he pressed her to him.

"For the record, you realize you have four years before you wake up and find you have one foot in the grave," he asked with an innocent smile.

"Actually three years and two months, but thanks for the vote of confidence," she said with a knowing smile. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Jack."

"I'm sorry I broke your vase," he said suddenly serious."Not just because it was a gift from your niece, but because I never should have lost control like that."

"Lindsay knows a few boxes got dropped in the move. She'll just assume it was one of the casualities of the move. Besides, things can be replaced," she said as she edged towards the topic that had been on her mind for weeks."Listen Jack. We need to clear the air….you know I love you, right?"

"I do," he said raising her left hand. "Speaking of 'I do', this finger has been bare long enough. I know we were going to try to get the sanding done at the loft today, but what's yet one more week of no cabinet doors in the kitchen? You still have a few things in my closet here. I say we shower, put on some fresh clothes, and head down to the diamond district and get you an engagement ring, what do you say, counselor?"


	10. Coffee With the Ex

Staring down at the marquis cut stone on her ring finger, Malinowski recalled the exchange, knowing belatedly exactly what she should have said.

Her response should have been a resounding."No, not until after we talk about what was going on with _you_ last night."

She knew she had the opening she needed to not only press McCoy about his views on the Crawford case, but to learn more about the sketchy figures that had remained in the shadows during any conversation about Chicago and McCoy's childhood.

However, after the turbulent exchanges of the evening before, Malinowski relented. She opted to accept McCoy's offer, knowing to do so would give them a chance to spend the day enjoying each other instead of interrogating each other. Something she herself badly wanted two days before the start of a trial that was sure to bring the subject of McCoy's troubled childhood front and center, one way or another.

"Hey there girl. I thought you'd be fightin' in out with old Danielle down in Part 65."

Malinowski looked up from her newspaper and mocha at the lanky man in the three piece suit.

"Judge Bradley called for an early lunch. I think he's got motion hearing with one of Jack's Executives. If you're looking for Danielle-"

"Actually, I'm killin' time until Abbie Carmichael is available," Sam Prescott said as he pulled the chair across from his ex wife out. "May I join you or am I still in the dog house with you?"

Prescott smiled shyly as she nodded and set the paper aside.

"You've been replaced by a certain defense lawyer that made jury selection look like census taking for New York County yesterday."

Prescott chuckled and waited to reply until the counter girl had set his cup beside him and departed.

"Well, now that you mention it, I did here something about a prosecutor that made jury selection look like a Male Power convention."

Malinowski set her cup down with a start and fought to keep from gagging on her coffee.

"That woman just doesn't know when to quit does she?"

Prescott slowly shook his head and handed his ex-wife a napkin.

"Quitin's not a word I associate with Danielle Rose."

"Sounds like you two worked things out," she asked as she thoughtfully wiped her mouth."I have to tell you, Jack feels like hell letting it slip about Mark. He had no idea you two were friends."

"Jack wouldn't feel like hell if you had thought to mention it first," he replied evenly as he sipped his coffee.

"Come one Sam," she countered defensively. "What was I gonna say? 'Hey, Sam welcome home. While you were gone, one of your closest friends was hunted down and killed like a dog by some Neo-Nazi's you're girlfriend not only represented, but risked disbarment and prison for, by violating restrictions placed by the court?' I think my falling in love with another man was enough of a shock for you to deal with, don't you? Believe it or not I _do_ want you to be happy."

"I know you do, darling," he said softly as he picked up her hand.

Prescott studied the stones at the center of the platinum band. A baguette on either side of the center stone, the trio accented by a platinum band that had a design engraved around it that he immediately recognized as Celtic.

"Looks like you've come another step closer to old Jack makin' an honest woman out of you," he said with a smile."Beats the hell out of the single solitaire I slipped on your finger way back when."

"It was your mother's ring," she said gently as she squeezed his fingers. "I still treasure that ring, Sam. I always will."

Prescott nodded. He knew by the way she reacted during the settlement proceedings that her statement was more than just polite words. When she had offered to return the engagement ring, Prescott had shaken his head, at once surprised by the offer and believing at the time he'd never find another woman he'd want to give the prized possession to again.

"It's lovely, Mal," he said still staring at her finger."A McCoy family heirloom?"

Malinowski shook her head. When they had gone to the diamond district they ended up spending the better part of the afternoon leisurely strolling through a collection of stores that started with _Tiffany's_ and ended with _Harry Winston_. The stones were exquisite, pricey, and surprisingly similar in design.

At one point, Malinowski suggested simply using the ring McCoy had given her months before as an engagement ring and focusing instead on bands for both of them. McCoy vetoed the idea on the grounds that while the promise ring was attractive, it was more of a band than an engagement ring. That ring could be used as her wedding band, if she desired. As for himself, McCoy admitted it was all he could do not to lose the ring his sister had given him upon his graduation from NYU.

Just after they had taken an ice crème break to rest their feet, as well as Malinowski's achy back, McCoy had spotted an independent jeweler on one of the side streets between fifth and sixth avenues. The small shop was owned by the McDowell family and specialized in wedding sets with traditional Irish designs.

When Malinowski asked to see the ring they eventually settled on, McCoy's eyes widened and he carefully took the ring from the jeweler.

_"Eternal life, nature, and love," he whispered._

_"That's quite right, sir," the elderly gentleman behind the counter__ replied. "The trinity design __does represent the past, present, and future – the larger stone representing the present, of course. But the traditional meanings were as you stated."_

_"Jack, did you come by this knowledge by chance or from your two previous trips to the diamond district," she asked playfully._

_"Neither," he said slipping the ring on her finger. "It's almost an exact replica__ of __my Grandma Mauve's – my mother's mothers- engagement ring."_

_While Malinowski wasn't sure how to react to the revelation, the clerk smiled with delight._

_"__Tis a sign, you can be sure of that," he said seriously. "You know Mauve was the name in Irish lore of the warrior queen."_

_"I remember," McCoy __said__ a half smile on his lips. "I also means 'intoxicating' and I'd say that describes my future wife, as well."_

"Mal, where did you go, girl," Prescott said obviously amused. "You have the goofiest look I've ever seen on your face. I just asked you if the damn thing was a family heirloom not.."

"Sorry," she stammered, "just thinking about something Jack said. No, it's not an heirloom. His sister has his grandmother's ring. This one is identical except the original was is set in silver."

"Well, as I said, it's lovely. Suits you."

"Thanks. Listen, about Mark..."

"Darlin' it's done. Danielle and I are still workin' things through, but you were right."

"About?"

"That day at the house, before I took you to the emergency room. You said a day would come where Danielle went over the line the way Jack did with my brother's case. You said somethin' about how I wouldn't pick up my marbles and run. Well, I did run, just not too far. After I had a chance to do a little research… well…let's just say I was never one to walk away without a fight."

"She really got to you, didn't she," his ex-wife said with a grin. "Are you sure you won't be needing that ring of your Mother's after all?"

Prescott face reddened as he smiled in spite of himself.

"Danielle's not the only one that doesn't know when to quit. By the by, I want you to know, I'm sorry I went overboard and helped Danielle with that emergency room business," he said suddenly somber. "You know I was just bein' my over protective ex-husband self, right? I would never deliberately interfere in one of your cases ...or one of Jack's... for that matter."

Malinowski leaned forward, grateful for the chance to learn once and for all, if she and McCoy had been right about Melnick's motives.

"Did you really think I was in trouble? I mean, don't you think I would have called the cops myself…"

"Darlin' I didn't know what to think when I saw those bruises," he said frankly."You and I both know the most unlikely people end up in these kinds of situations. Add that to that findin' out the hell McCoy went through as a kid…we both know the percentages on abusers being abused themselves…I just couldn't risk it."

"That explains _your _motives," she said nodding. "What were hers? Too try to get me off the case? Too raise Jack's consciousness as a preamble to the next abuse case Danielle handles in his jurisdiction? I mean, she could be disbarred when my investigators' are finished looking into this mess. I just don't get what would be worth that kind of risk."

Prescott shook his head just before his cell phone began to ring.

"Nope, not stirin' this pot up," he said firmly, as he opened his phone. "Abbie? You have some time for an old friend?... Works for me…See you soon."

"Well, if you won't tell me about Danielle and what makes her tick, the least you can do is tell me why you're going over to the States Attorney's office? I know it's too early for lunch and ..."

"I'm going back, Mal. I'm goin' back to bein' a federal prosecutor.I kind of used that fallin' out with Danielle to break the news to her."

Malinowski rested her head on her folded hands and waited. When Prescott had taken the position with Amnesty International she'd wondered how long it would be before the former federal prosecutor would become restless. It was one thing to make a few speeches or give a few seminars, but for a trial lawyer of Prescott's caliber to leave the courtroom permanently after having been away for so long already, seemed incomprehensible to his former wife and second chair.

"You knew it wouldn't last," he said humbly. "But I want you to know, I didn't do it solely for her, Mal."

"Hum hum."

"Listen, I believe defendants have rights. We are pretty damn lucky here, as opposed to some of the countries I've visited the last few months. But, I've been away from the courtroom too long. Now that I have a second chance, I want that part of my life back."

"I'm sure Danielle would be thrilled to take a former Fed on as a partner," she said with a smirk.

"You also know I'd rather eat worms than sit on the other side of the aisle," he said knowingly, as he stood. "Danielle knows you can't teach this old dog that new trick. Listen, I've got to run. Abbie is waitin' for me. Seriously, I'm miserable when we fight. Are we all right again?"

Malinowski nodded with a grin as moved to join him.

"You know I could never stay mad at you for very long," she as the embraced. "I _do_ think you owe me at least a _clue_ as to what your girlfriend was really up to with all that drama. You know I'm going to keep looking until I see it, so why don't you just save me the time and aggravation. Off the record – just for old time's sake – why did Danielle see that that emergency room report found its way to the 1 6?"


	11. Mending Fences

"Are you ready for another slice or should I have the just have the waitress box up a chocolate torte to go?"

Jack McCoy meant Danielle Melnick's humble gaze with a satisfied grin a kin to that of Cheshire cat.

"A to go box will be acceptable," he said simply, as he savored his last bite of his dessert.

"Your wish is my command," Melnick replied, as she signaled for the waitress.

It had been almost two weeks since last time her last encounter with the DA. The scene in front of the Four Seasons after the bar association dinner had left her with more than one relationship to mend.

When her lover had turned on his heel and strode off in one direction and her friend of more than twenty years stormed off in the opposite direction, it didn't take Melnick more than a fraction of a second to decide which man to go after first. McCoy and Melnick's relationship was already littered with battles, usually smoothed over in less than a month after a obligatory lunch that included conciliatory words and a menu including the injured party's dessert of choice.

Mending fences with McCoy could wait.

It had taken Melnick almost a week to track Prescott down. When she drove out to the house in Inslip he was nowhere to be found. His cell phone was off. When she tried his office at Amnesty International, she was told he had given notice and would not be in the rest of the week.

It wasn't until the following Thursday night that Melnick ran into the former prosecutor by chance, after dropping a friend at Kennedy airport. Prescott was standing outside the United Airlines terminal; overnight bag and briefcase in hand. After nearly getting cited by an airport security officer for stopping traffic, Melnick was able to persuade him to let her drive him into the city to catch a train back to Islip.

"I assume you'd like me to drop you at Penn station," she asked carefully while she pulled onto the expressway leading back in to the city.

"I've been out of town all week. I need to run by the office and pick up a few things, before I catch the train."

Melnick nodded. Although there a million things she wanted to say, somehow the gifted attorney couldn't quite decide where to begin.

She still remembered the horror she felt when Jack McCoy had told her of the death of DA Mark Featherstone. Even before McCoy verbalized the details, Melnick instantly knew the how and why it had happened.

Learning the late prosecutor had also been a friend of her current lover's, made the weight of the responsibility she felt about the man's death almost unbearable.

"It wasn't you fault."

The sound of Prescott's voice breaking the long and heavy silence made Melnick jump. She gave Prescott a wary glance, unsure as to whether he had truly spoken or whether she had just imaged the reassuring sound of his voice.

"Danielle, Mark's death wasn't your fault," he said with a little more force.

"That's not how his widow feels," she replied softly. "After Jack pulled my bacon out of the fire, Mrs. Featherstone came up from Florida to try to file charges with the state bar against me. I would have lost my license if Jack hadn't convinced Arthur Branch to put in a good word for me with the Chair of the Disciplinary Committee."

Melnick ran a quick hand over her eyes as she muttered more to herself than to her companion, "As if losing my license could begin to make up for her losing her husband."

Prescott placed a hand gently over hers.

"I just came from seeing Joan Featherstone down in Florida. Things change Danielle. Maybe if you pull over at that rest stop, we could talk about that."

After pulling off of the highway and into the tree covered rest stop, the couple spent the next few hours revisiting, not only the Featherstone murder, but their relationship as well.

Melnick was uncharacteristically quiet, as Prescott told her of his visit to the south. He revealed the results of his emotional reunions with Featherstone's widow and well as another woman from his past.

"… long story short darlin', it's clear from the transcripts of your conversations in Rikers that you had no idea what you were doing. I now that, so does Joan."

"I can't believe you, Sam," Melnick whispered, eyes wide and shiny. "This man was your friend. If I had just followed the law..."

Prescott reached an arm across the seat back. It was obvious from the tortured look on his lovers face, that the person that blamed Danielle Melnick most for Feathestone's death, was Danielle Melnick.

"Yes, Danielle, Mark was my friend," he said as he handed he his handkerchief."Let me tell you something about my friend, Mark Featherstone. He was man that not only fought like hell to keep criminals behinds bars, he was a man that fought like hell to preserve the Constitution. You two have more in common than you know, Danielle. Truth be told, he'd have been appalled by those restrictions the court placed on your client. Remember, Mark _was_ a good friend of _your_ good friend, Vance Brody."

Melnick reached to unfastened her seat belt before throwing her arms around him. Prescott did the same, closing his eyes as he ran a comforting hand through her hair, resting his face between her neck and the soft dark locks. He smiled to himself as he inhaled the scent of her perfume, savoring the warmth of her embrace that he had begun to miss almost immediately after leaving her.

After a series of murmured apologies and increasingly passionate exchanges, the pair continued towards the city. By the time Melnick exited of the Brooklyn Bridge at Centre Street, she had learned that after Prescott had spent a few days expressing belated condolences to Mark Featherstone's widow in Florida, he had taken a short detour to Atlanta.

His visit with the former Felicity Fairchild had helped to alleviate the jumble of anger, guilt, and regret he had felt about his own role in the prosecution of his half brother, as well as his concern and worry for his dearest childhood friend.

By the time she woke up beside him the next morning, Melnick had learned that he had made the decision to return to the States Attorney's office. Much to her relief, the position he had previous been offered in Albany had been filled by a Manhattan prosecutor, leaving a vacancy he could fill a mere twenty minutes across town.

Melnick snuggled closer to her sleeping lover. As she carefully ran her hands over the warmth of his bare chest she was reminded once again of how grateful she was to have Sam Prescott in her life.

The softness of her body against his back caused Prescott to smile lazily, as he rolled over to face her. His smile grew wider as he opened his eyes to find Melnick smiling back at him.

"Well now, I can't think of a more pleasant sight to wake up to," he murmured before drawing her to him.

Prescott could feel Melnick respond to his kiss. Her body moved closer, as her arms went around his neck. As much as he wanted to let his hands wander and discover new ways of pleasuring his lover, he reluctantly broke their embrace as he felt Melnick's hands travel passed his hips.

"Darlin' maybe you forgot you have court in a few hours. I'm sure you don't want to let that nasty old prosecutor from Suffolk County get a jump on you, by not havin' time to prepare."

"I can hold my own with your ex-wife," Melnick said in a tone that told Prescott she wasn't just referring to keeping up with his ex in the courtroom.

"I never doubted you could," he countered as he wrapped an arm around her, as he laid back beside her."Although there is somethin' I've been wonderin' about since I left for Florida."

Melnick sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. She had no doubt as to what had peaked Prescott's interest. As much as she wanted to savor the last few precious minutes of their reunion, she knew she owned him an explanation. Especially after indirectly involving him in her conflict between Jack McCoy and Brooke Malinowski.

"I know Brooke thinks I sent that report to the 1 6 as a cheap ploy to maneuver her office into a better plea on the Crawford case ..."

"I have a pretty good idea what Brooke thinks," he replied as he leaned over her. "I want to know what _you _were thinkin'. I don't doubt for a minute you'd like an ADA handlin' that case that is more more likely to buck Michael Jackowski's recommendations on that case. But I like to think I know you well enough to know there's more to you riskin', not only your professional reputation if such an extreme stunt were to back fire, but for you to risk a twenty year friendship."

"Part of it _was_ to wake up the powers that be on the other side of the aisle. You know how I feel about Roberta Crawford pleading to anything more than man one, minimum time," she responded as she propped herself up against the headboard. "It would truly be a miscarriage of justice for that woman..."

Prescott chuckled as he raised a hand.

"Tell me somethin' I don't already know darlin.'"

"Maybe I went too far this time," she said quietly.

In the time she had known Jack McCoy, Melnick had seen more shades of the fiery prosecutor than there were colors in a kaleidoscope. The well rehearsed show of a driven, unstoppable force for justice, McCoy showed himself to be in the courtroom was balanced by the compassion she'd seen him show when dealing with a victim or a victim's family. She knew McCoy to be a patient and loving father. He was a man capable of amazing charm and wit. He was also a man whose mood swung like a metronome gone mad in times of extreme stress.

"Just between us... you and me Danielle. Did you honestly think Jack deliberately hurt Mal?"

A series of events flashed through Melnick's mind's eye as she pondered the question: The night after Alex Borgia had been murdered, the afternoon of Claire Kincaid's wake, the afternoon after a teenage client of Melnick's was acquitted on charges of murdering a father who had long abused the boy and his mother.

"No," she said at last. "Not that it isn't possible...Jack went through hell as a child and he's never really dealt with it. He rarely talks about it. Almost makes it a matter of pride not to let the fact he and his family lived in terror for years because of that lunatic he called a father effect his professional judgment."

"Go on."

"Part of it does have to do with the case…I can't go into too many specifics…but if Jack stops and thinks about it and some of the other little clues I left him before he stopped speaking to me, he might put it together and pass the information on to Brooke. It's a long shot, but it's the only way I could think of to try to save my client, given the way Roberta has tied my hands."

Prescott mulled over Melnick's puzzling comments as he sat up as well. While the pieces weren't easily falling into place, he knew if she had enough confidence in McCoy to piece the puzzle together, eventually he could do so as well.

"What's the other part?"

"The other part is it's high time Jack McCoy came to terms with his past. Especially if he has any hope in hell of making a new marriage work."


	12. Melnick Doesn't Plead Out the Innocent

"I assume Brooke enjoys a chocolate torte as much as you do?"

"Looking for ideas for a peace offering for opposing counsel after that stunt you pulled with the 1 6 or just looking for the right flavor of humble pie for when th ejury brings back a 'guilty' verdict in the Crawford case," McCoy countered as he ushered Melnick towards an empty bench.

After a leisurely apology dinner at Tavern on the Green, the pair had opted to walk off some of their new found calories and took the long way out of Central Park. When McCoy began to press her about the motives behind their latest falling out, Melnick had suggested taking a break from the briskly paced stroll.

"Neither, Just looking out for your blood sugar," she replied as she glanced at the box beside McCoy. "You know if you eat that torte all by yourself Dr. Meadows is going give you hell. You know she as spies everywhere."

McCoy nodded solemnly, knowing the humoress remark about the primary care physician they shared, was laced with more truth than McCoy cared to admit.

"I'll risk it. You know like to live dangerously... after all I'm still talking to _you_. That could get me killed, when Brooke finds out. I heard about that crap you pulled during jury selection. What have you been doing Danielle,borrowing strategies from Randy Dworkin?"

Melnick smiled smugly as she recalled the frustration of opposing counsel when Melnick excused her 29th juror of the day, her 78th for the week. Melnick could so distinctly see one of the veins in Malinowski's temple pounding out a throbbing beat, that she thought for sure the ADA's head was going to explode.

"You of all people know how far I'll go for a client, Jack."

"Apparently not," McCoy said with amusement. "I never thought you'd do something as irresponsible as accusing me of assault. That raises the bar further than I ever could image, when it comes to how high you'll jump for a client."

"She's innocent Jack."

McCoy did a double take as the words bounced off the walls of his brain. Danielle Melnick didn't plead out innocent clients and McCoy knew it. He looked at her sharply, as he waited for her to continue.

"I know what you're thinking and you're right. I don't and she is,' Melnick said reading his mind.

It was clear to her that her misguided scheme needed a dramatic push to have the needed result occur. Telling Jack McCoy a woman she had been willing to take a plea on... even though the terms of that pleas were pie in the sky as far as opposing counsel was concerned ...was more than a push. It was a downright shove.

"If you think I'm going to try to influence Brooke in anyway regarding a pending case, you better think again, "he warned. "Besides, you know how I feel about your using the battered woman defense, in a case involving a woman who had enough malice a fore thought to buy the gun a month in advance. You know me, Danielle. I know better than most what a battered woman will and will _not_ do."

"As well as what a battered child will do," she replied with intensity that immediately caught McCoy's attention.

"And that is relevant to this conversation _how_?"

"Come on Jack. You know I can't make it that easy for you… or anyone else… you might see fit to share this conversation with."

"You realize the tight rope you're walking?"

Melnick met his knowing gaze. It was a verbal dance they had done less than a half a dozen times in twenty years. One of the two knowing something the other should know about a case, yet being aware an outright revelation would violate more codes of ethics than there would be room to cite on a summons for the discipline committee of the state bar.

"If I keep walking it, can I count on you to try to catch me, Jack?"

McCoy silently weighed the consequences of flirting with disbarment, as well as the possible fallout that could occur between himself and his fiancée depending on the real impact Melnick's unspoken information could have on Malinowski's case. After less than a minute, McCoy gave his friend a single nod.


	13. Mothers and Sons

"All right Jack. After another day watching your 'friend' make a mockery of jury selection, it's either drink until the bottles empty, gorge on comfort food, or commit a homicide. You're call."

McCoy kissed his fiancée on the top of her head as he silently walked towards the refrigerator.

"I swear if I didn't know you and Danielle went so far back, I'd arrange for her to take a fall down those court steps. Nothing bad enough to do _permanent_ damage mind you; just bad enough to get her out of my face and out of the courtroom."

Malinowski's eyes lit up when McCoy opened the box containing 5/6's of a chocolate torte.

"No wonder I love you," she said as gave him a peck on the cheek before turning to retrieve plates and forks."You always know exactly what I need."

"Actually, you can thank Danielle. This is part of the peacemaking ritual," he said handing her a plate."Sure you still want it?'

"I'll find a way to choke it down," she said with a grin as they moved towards the bistro table."Besides, it's a gift to you and you're sharing it with me. Since possession is 9/10's of the law …"

"Well there's more where that came from ... and I don't mean more torte," McCoy said with surprising seriousness.

Malinowski savored the chocolate ecstasy that filled her mouth, as she waited for McCoy to continue. When he remained silent while he toyed with the dessert on his plate, his fiancée reached across the table and took the fork out of his hand.

"It's about the case isn't it? You don't have to put yourself between myself and Danielle. Jack, we are grown up's, even if neither of us have been acting like it lately."

"I wouldn't. If it was just about the case, I wouldn't involve myself and Danielle knows it. This marriage we're about to start wouldn't last long if we started second guessing each, especially if we started second guessing each other professionally."

"Well, unless you've done a 180, you all ready have," she said candidly. "I told you at the start, this was a man mne case and you backed up my boss, remember? You exact words were 'that's why I'm a DA not an ADA', when I told you Jackowski wouldn't let me plead it out the way it should be done."

McCoy remembered the conversation as if it had happened yesterday. He knew how impatient he had sounded. How downright arrogant he'd been. He'd seen enough cases like the Crawford case to know a premeditated murder when he saw one. Just based on the newspaper accounts, he knew Roberta Crawford had put way too much planning into the murder of her allegedly abusive husband, to be able to claim battered wife syndrome made her do it.

McCoy knew what his own mother had suffered for years at the hands of his father. She never once had tried to kill him. Not even after more hospitals visits than she could count. Not even after seeing her children one by one, systematically meet the same fate for not living up to the expectations of Officer John McCoy, that she had. Whether the offense was not making the corned beef tender enough or not tying a shoe fast enough, it hardly mattered. The brutal penalty was still the same.

McCoy told Malinowski, he could understand the need to break the cycle. The need for a woman to run; to take her children to a shelter, to press charges, to go to a family member. God, how he wished there had been more support for women like his mother when he was growing up. But unless the victim had been in the act or the defendant had beaten or abused within a reasonable time frame, McCoy knew the defense could too easily be copied for less than stellar reasons.

"Jack, I'm not hearing anything I didn't already know," Malinowski said as she tried to gently prod him. "I knew you were skeptical of Melnick's defense for Roberta Crawford. You've got to give me a little more to go on here."

"Where was Crawford's son at the time of the murder," McCoy asked carefully avoiding her quizzical gaze.

"The _son_? Supposedly, he was hiding out in the park. Roberta says he would go there whenever it looked like there was going to be trouble between the spouses."

McCoy nodded. He remembered the drill. At the sound of the first loud noise...his mother's scream, the sound of shattered glass, the slamming of the front door.. he knew it was time to grab his younger sibling and hurry them off to a 'safe' place...

Except for_ that_ night. The night McCoy had come home after basketball practice to find his mother unconscious. The night his father had carelessly left his service revolver in plain view, after passing out, after one too many beers.

The night Jack McCoy had decided enough was enough and fired a gun for the first and last time in his life.


	14. Shots Fired on Damen Avenue

He had been a sophomore in high school when it happened. It was a Friday night. His younger sister had all ready left for a sleep over at her best friend's house and his younger brother was on a weekend camping trip with the church youth group.

Knowing it was more than likely he would be alone with his father; McCoy was in no hurry to return home. With his brother and sister safely out of the house and his mother usually at women's fellowship until nine on Friday's, he took the long way back from the park to avoid the house little longer.

As he made his way through the park towards Damen Avenue, he could hear the distant sound of one of the local blues bands. When he was small, his parents used to make a habit of coming down to the park for the free Friday night concerts. Those had been happy times. Although his father always been what his friends in the mental health professions would later call manic/depressive years later, the senor McCoy's good days far outnumbered the bad, back then. Alcoholism had not yet taken control of his father completely.

His mother's Achilles heel had been John McCoy, as soon as she laid eyes on the charming Irishman at a church social, just before her eighteenth birthday. By all accounts, it was love at first sight for the very young, very beautiful, very much sheltered future Mrs. John McCoy .

By the time JackMcCoy was in middle school, the concerts in the park were a thing of the past and his mother's physical beauty was but a memory due to the punishment her body took more and more frequently as John McCoy fell more and more into the bottle.

As he approached the porch of the well worn brownstone, he realized the house was surprisingly dark and quiet. Too quiet. It was nearly nine and McCoy knew the long awaited playoff game between the Bears and the Jets was in full swing. Something his father would never intend to miss.

McCoy would never really know how it happened. All he knew was his father he had passed out near the top of the basement stairs and his mother was at the bottom of those same stairs, unconsious. Sadly, it wasn't the first time he'd come home to such a scene.

After carefully setting his backpack beside his bedroom door, he gave his father a wary kick. A kick instead of a shake, in case the old man was more alert than he looked. A kick put a little more distance between them; giving the teenager a little more time to make a dash back out the front door, if need be.

When his father did nothing but groan and rollover, McCoy started quietly past the open door and down the well worn stairs to the basement. Before going through the usual steps to revive and reassure his mother, McCoy stared down at the woman that lay peacefully in front of him.

He cursed his father for coming home to watch the game, instead of staying down at Flannery's with his partner and friends from the precinct. He cursed his mother for being foolish enough to stay in the house with his father alone, instead of waiting outside for her son's return. If she'd waited for him and the old man started in on her, McCoy thought he might have been able to divert his father's attention long enough for them both to make to the basement, instead of…

Resigned to the situation, he bent down and tried to bring his mother around. He called her name and carefully shook her, to no avail. He paused long enough to grab the smelling salt from behind the laundry supplies.

Growing more alarmed when the smelling salts failed to revive her, he checked unsuccessfully for a pulse.

"Brooke I swear, I thought he'd killed her this time," McCoy in a voice that was barely above whisper.

"He didn't though, did he?"

McCoy shook his head as he stood up and began to pace between the sofa and the dining table. Malinowski desperately wanted to find away to take the unbearable memory from her lover's consciousness. She inwardly cursed Danielle Melnick for bringing such a traumatic event back to the front of McCoy's mind.

No case…no defendant...was worth making McCoy relive any part of his life in Chicago.

"The emergency room doctors were able to bring her around," he said as he settled beside the window."But not before I realized what would happen to us. If he had killed her, that meant we'd be alone with him. Now, I was almost fifteen...I knew I'd made that far... I could make it the three years I needed to turn eighteen and either get a job or enlist. Either option would have given me the satisfaction of spiting at him and his obsession with me going to law school," McCoy said, his tone uncharacteristically hard and bitter.

"But your siblings… you'd never leave them," she responded."How old were they?"

"Colleen was twelve and Patrick was nine. They'd have never made it alone with him. Anything was better than that…going to Grandma McCoy…even living with strangers would have been better…"

Malinowski shivered as she felt a sudden chill run up her spine. His ominous tone sent a rush of visions through her mind, none of which that were pleasant.

"Jack, what exactly are you saying? What did you do?"

"I went back up stairs," he said more to himself than to her. "I went back up upstairs. I stepped over my father and almost tripped over it."

"It?'

McCoy could still remember the dull ache in his big toe when he nearly fell over his father's service revolver. That's when he knew how bad the battle must have been before he came home. It was a ritual that he couldn't remember his father missing: Removing his holster and placing the Smith and Wesson Police Special in the top drawer of the night table on his father's side of the bed.

Without thinking, he bent down and suddenly the gun was in his hands. His first thought was to turn the barrel towards himself, but almost immediately he discarded the idea. He knew it would only be worse for his siblings if he were to leave them, as well as having them lose their mother.

To leave them alone with him was unthinkable.

The gun felt heavy in his hand. McCoy gripped the weapon as he'd seen his father grip it when he had gone with him to the police firing range... automatically releasing the safety. Maybe this was a chance … a chance for his siblings to find another family… a family that was a_ real_ family…where yelling and drinking and hitting and things as well as people, being broken weren't the order of the day….

"Jack," Malinowski whispered, as she gently rested her hand against the face that had gone ashen and chilly.

She knew the outcome _couldn't_ have been what it was begining to sound like. She remembered her lover remarking once about returning to his hometown for his father's funeral with his assistant / lover at the time, the late Diana Hawthorne. But his tone, the far away look in his dark eyes, his whole manner had her more than a little worried.

"My brother and sister would have been better off without him...hell... the _world_ would have been better off without my father."

"Jack, you didn't kill him."

McCoy finally swung around from the window.

"No I didn't, but I wanted to Brooke," he said looking unapologetically in her eyes. "I wanted to more than I've wanted anything before or since and I would have too, if my mother hadn't left her sweater in Aunt Siobhan's car after fellowship."

McCoy remembered staring down at his father and thinking about how easy it would be to put an end to the fear, the uncertainty, and the constant pain – both physical and emotional the older McCoy inflicted.. He knew Father Christopher would tell him he would suffer eternal damnation for taking a life, but McCoy already suffered in an unimaginable hell and with his mother dead….the Bible said thou shalt not kill…it_ also_ said an eye for an eye…

The sound of the front door slamming made young McCoy jump, his fingers slipping and the sound of the gun expelling a cartridge, as well as the sudden recoil of the gun as it was fired, sent McCoy stumbling until his back was against the wall across from the stairs.

Malinowski took the half empty glass of scotch from his hand and set down on the counter. Wrapping her arms around him, she rocked him gently as a hand smoothly stroked the hair at the base of his neck. After what seemed like hours, McCoy loosened his grip on her shoulders and led her to the sofa.

"Listen to me," she said taking his face in her hands. "You were in shock. You didn't know what you were doing. You thought your father killed your mother. You know, if either one of us heard that story from a defendant, we'd drop any criminal charges..."

"What about the Crawford boy," McCoy asked hoarsely. "Danielle would never have gone to such lengths..."

While her head told her the unburdening of such a terrible weight was a good thing, Malinowski's heart ached for McCoy. The more she learned about her fiancée's past, the more she realized what a remarkable man Jack McCoy was. The fact he had so successfully moved beyond his past, only to have it smack him right between the eyes due to Danielle Melinick's well intentioned meddling, was a fact she had no intention of overlooking.

"Don't worry about Danielle and her client," Malinowski responded firmly. "I'll see that the appropriate steps are taken, later. Right now, I'm more concerned with making things right for you."

"Brooke, this is something that can never be made right," he said warily."It's a side of me I'm not proud of, but it's there. It's part of who I am. A very ugly part, just like the part of me that broke that vase."

Malinowski rested her head on his shoulder as she tried to think of a way to change the path he seemed to be heading towards. She was aware the subtle changes in herself since accepting McCoy's proposal. Scenes like the vase incident would not have been tolerated before the engagement. Deep down, she knew she'd been testing the waters, seeing how strong their bond was and what it might with stand. She also sensed McCoy either consciously or subconsciously had been doing the same the night, the vase had been broken.

With or without Melnick's prodding, Malinowski knew McCoy had taken a huge leap of faith sharing such a traumatizing story. She wasn't about to leave the door open for McCoy to use it as a bridge to self doubt or uncertainty.

"I think you need a road trip," she said as she began to thoughtfully finger the open collar of his shirt.

"As much as I'd enjoy a ride down the coast, "McCoy began with an uncertain smile on his lips, "don't see how as bike ride down..."

"Not down the coast, _up._ Up to Maine," Malinowski countered knowingly. "How long has it been since you've seen your daughter, Jack?"


	15. Come Saturday Morning

"How could you do it Danielle," Brooke Malinowski demanded as she stormed passed her ex-husband and into Danielle Melnick's living room.

After watching Jack McCoy fitfully toss and turn for the better part of the previous evening, Malinowski knew the truest way to fulfill her promise to her fiancée that she would '..see that appropriate steps' were taken, was to appropriately dress down one of his oldest and dearest friends.

After hearing McCoy's story, Malinowski had called her assistant and asked him to alert not only the DA office's investigative staff, but the Suffolk County sheriff's office, as well. She wanted all the evidence in the Crawford case gone over again with a fine tooth comb, especially the information about the teenage son.

Although she was willing to give Melnick and her client the benefit of the doubt professionally, it took her all of two seconds to hail a cab and head for Melnick's building after McCoy kissed her goodbye that morning and pulled into traffic to start his journey to Maine.

Even though it was eight forty five on a Saturday morning, she felt confident that if her ex-husband were the one to answer the intercom, she could easily get up to Melnick's apartment. Sure enough, upon hearing her voice, a weary Prescott buzzed her in. A decision he regretted the moment he saw he expression on his former wife's face, when he opened the door.

"Now darlin'," he began as he tightened the belt of his robe,"don't go gettin' all upset."

"Don't 'now darlin'' me Sam," she snapped as she looked around the elegant room. "If you won't get her out here, I'll get her out here myself."

As she started towards the hall that she assumed led to the master bedroom, Prescott stepped in front of her.

"Now Mal, you know that's the last thing you want to do. That's the quickest way to give Danielle real grounds to get you removed as the prosecutor on the Crawford case and you know it," he said as he took her arm and started towards the kitchen. "'Sides, she isn't here, you just missed her."

"If Danielle's is gone at this hour," she said skeptically, "why are you so anxious to keep out me of the bedroom? Sam, you can't protect her forever, especially after that idiotic ..."

"You doubt my word," he asked in surprise, as her began pouring coffee for each of them. "When have I ever been anything less than honest with you?"

Malinowski reached for the crème on the counter and gave him a look that made him blush.

"I meant_ besides_ faking my death and letting you think you were a widow for five years. My God Mal, one lie in eight years of marriage …are you ever gonna let me live it down," he joked with a wink, as he handed her a spoon. "Neither of us got to the market yesterday. She went to get breakfast."

Despite the rage she felt towards his lover, Malinowski gace him a reluntant smile a she stirred her coffee.

"I'll let the whole 'you faked your death and left me' thing go, if you tell how much she's told you about the lengths she's gone to get her client off."

"I know enough to have already warned my sweet Danielle Rose to run quickly and carry big stick in anticipation of her next encounter with you," he murmured as he sat next to her at the counter.

"It's not funny Sam. I don't give a damn whether her client is willing to take a plea to save her kid or not. Putting Jack through all of this nonsense… first the business with SVU and now this back door tactic to let me know her theory of the crime…not only does it make me question anything your 'sweet Danielle Rose' has ever told me, it makes me want to go to Judge Bradley myself with a charge of hindering prosecution."

"_Now_ who's being less than truthful," he said flatly.

One of the things that had drawn him to his former wife was her sense of fair play. Prescott couldn't image...no matter what words came out of her mouth... that Malinowski could ever feel good about convicting any defendant she thought might be innocent.

"Just because her client _says_ the son did it doesn't make it so," she said stubbornly, as she fingered the ring on her left hand.

"But you _are _checking it out, aren't you?"

"Only because I want all my ducks in a row so there are no grounds for an appeal later."

"I'm sure that's the_ only_ reason you're taking an interest," he said making no attempt to hide his amusement.

"She had no business comparing this case with the trauma Jack suffered as a child. She's lucky I didn't tell Jack's daughter the whole story. If I had, I have no doubt Becky would have beat me to your door this morning."

"You're sure you made that choice only to spare Miss McCoy's feelings, not because you know there might be some merit to..."

"I didn't tell Becky because she'll have enough to deal with when Jack arrives at her place. Besides, this is Jack's story to tell," she said earnestly,"not mine. It's bad enough I gave Becky a head's up about the whole mess with his parents….I'm sure it's a story Jack had no intention of sharing with his daughter…at least until Danielle decided to maneuver him into drudging it all up again."

"Honey, did you ever think for even a minute, it might not be entirely bad for Jack to have an opportunity to come to terms with what happened? I mean, that's a heavy burden to carry alone, having nearly shot your own father."

Malinowski thought about how shaken McCoy had been the previous night. Although it had pained her to see him so full of guilt and self doubt…to watch him relive such a horrifying moment in his life… she knew such a revelation had brought them even closer together.

When they finally laid, down it was nearly midnight. McCoy's lovemaking held such an air of malaise that Malinowski had stopped him just a few minutes after he had finished undressing her. Silently, she held his hands away from her body, gently kissing the tips of his fingers. She continued to hold his gaze as she draped her body over his, wrapping her limbs around him to embrace him.

_"The first time we spent the night together, I said you were a good man. I still believe that Jack. You should, too."_

_"I could have killed him Brooke," a barely audible voice whispered into her ear."If I had…"_

_"If you had, it wouldn't have meant you would have been wrong," she interjected; thinking like a woman in love, as opposed to an experienced prosecutor. "It wouldn't have made you a bad person…God knows you had provocation. It doesn't make you a bad son, Jack."_

_"It makes me him... _his_ son ...in the most basic sense," he said lifting her chin. "It's a factor you can't ignore if you're going to be my wife, Brooke. You can't keep explaining away, looking the other way…"_

_She shook her head stubbornly, unwilling to let the conversation take the turn he had chosen._

_"The only way this changes things, is by its power to cause you to doubt yourself," she said solemnly. "That's how you give your father power over you from the grave. Don't let him win,__ Jack. Our love is stronger he is__. Than his sickness, his hate, whatever label you want to give it."_

She could feel her eyes begin to moisten, as she remembered the tears in her fiancée's eyes, before he pressed his lips to hers and began to make love to her again. Joyful desire rapidly replacing his melancholy demeanor.

"Sometimes when you jar someone with a heavy burden, all you do is succeed causing them to spill what they'd been balancing so carefully," she said, addressing her ex-husband as she set her coffee cup down."I've got to get out to Long Island to see what the Sheriff's found out about the Crawford kid. When you see Danielle, tell her it's going to take more than chocolate torte's to repair the damage this time around."

Prescott nodded contritely, as he followed Malinowski towards the front door.

"Will do, darlin'," he said as he turned the knob. "Good luck. No matter what the Sheriff tells you I have no doubt you'll do the right thing."

Malinowski flushed uncomfortably, knowing her personal beliefs about the Crawford cases were even more muddled than they had been at the start.

"One more thing, Sam. That business about the bedroom when I got here? With Danielle safely at the market, why did you make such a point of keeping me from just going in there myself and seeing she was already gone?"

Prescott looked down at the floor bashfully. Malinowski leaned back on the door frame, intrigued by her ex husband's sudden shyness.

"Sam?"

"Just didn't think it would do," he said at last.

"What? What wouldn't do?"

"Temptin' fate by startin' this conversation in …. bein' alone in the bedroom with you. That's not somethin' I wasn't willin' to chance Danielle walkin in on. Not somethin' I was willin' to tempt fate with a second time," he said never looking up from the floor.


	16. Father's and Daughter's

"Are you and Brooke making any progress with the wedding plans, "Rebecca McCoy asked while she watched her father place the last piece of salmon on the grill.

The pair had spent the better part of the day fishing at a river just a short drive from Rebecca's Portland apartment. The remainder of the day McCoy and daughter had prepared their bounty for the grill; cleaning and seasoning the fresh salmon. It was a ritual his daughter remembered from her childhood.

As they gutted and scaled the fish, the conversation moved to the usual questions about her job, current boyfriend, and overall life plans. Rebecca maintained a delicate balance between divulging enough information to satisfy McCoy's parental need to know, yet holding back enough to assure her autonomy and privacy were still intact. By the time the pair went out on the balcony to heat up the barbeque, Rebecca felt it was time to turn the tables on her father.

"Does buying her an engagement ring count," he asked looking up to see her reaction.

"It's a step in the right direction," she replied with a grin."You should have insisted Brooke come with you so I could see it.Did you at least bring a picture, Dad?"

"Young lady, I'm sure Brooke told you she has a trial to prepare for when she gave you the head's up about why I was for a spur of the moment visit," he asked with an amused scowl."I'm equally sure she told you the ring is a replica of your great grandmother Mauve's ring."

Rebecca blushed at her feeble attempt at manipulation. After receiving the late night call from her soon to be stepmother, the young woman had decided to 'play dumb'. Letting her father find a way to tell her about the trauma he had sufferedfrom his childhood was the smartest way to deal with him without letting on Malinowski had revealed things shared in confidence.

"You caught me, Dad. Since you know the women in your life so well, you must know the only reason Brooke called was to..."

McCoy waved a dismissive hand at his daughter as he sat down beside her.

"I know what Brooke's motives were. I just hope you understand Danielle had equally noble motives. I've forgiven her. You and Brooke need to let it go, as well."

"_Danielle_," the young woman said sharply. "Brooke told me that one of her cases had brought some unpleasant memories back to the surface for you about your childhood…that you were punishing yourself for things you had no control over. How does Danielle fit in?"

McCoy cursed himself for not anticipating Malinowski's discretion. He knew from her tone and a few cryptic comments that his fiancée was beside herself with anger regarding Melnick. The last thing he wanted was to add Rebecca to the charge.

"It's not important," he said with a sigh. "None of it is. It was a long time ago and I don't want you to worry about things neither of us can change."

"Dad, I know we haven't always seen eye to eye. But even _I_ know what a monster Grandpa John was," she said bluntly.

"I never said that my father was a saint, but if you're basing that opinion on things your mother told you, you have to remember..."

"I'm basing that opinion on the things Aunt Colleen has said. For instance, how you really got that scar on the back of your leg."

McCoy abruptly returned to busy himself at the grill, keeping his back to his daughter. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered one of many days he made a mad dash to the basement. He had been about the reach for the knob of the basement door, when his father reached out a grabbed him from behind, throwing his young body across the hallway with enough force that one of his legs got caught in between the radiator and the wall, the heat cutting through his skin and leaving a mark that would be visible decades later.

"When did you talk to Colleen?"

"I called her this morning. But Dad, I knew Grandpa was abusive years ago. You yourself, told me how terrified you ...your whole family...was of him when you were a kid."

"That doesn't make what I wanted to do right."

"What you wanted to do doesn't make you evil either," she retorted, in a tone that reminded McCoy of his first wife. "Dad, you never hit me. Not once. If anything, you were overly protective of me. You're not Grandpa... maybe if you had been just a _little_... I wouldn't have been such a royal pain in the ass."

McCoy swung around stunned, nearly dropping the platter and spatula he held.

"It's not a joke Rebecca Eileen...you should thank God your mother would have never let me touch you! She would have died trying to keep you out of harm's way."

"SO WOULD YOU," she shouted, while she took the utensils from him.

Her eyes wide with alarm, she shook her father."Dad, you deal with the scum of the earth; murderers, rapists, child molesters. If you were going to snap...become violent all of a sudden ... it would have happened a long time ago. If you can't see that, maybe I should call Dr. Olivett."

"I thought you _hated_ Dr. Olivett," he said, remembering the out and out hostility his daughter had shown when, nearly a decade before, he had briefly started dating his attractive colleague.

"I was seventeen ... I was hated of _any_ woman you screwed... any woman that wasn't Mom," she shot back defiantly."The point is, you're not perfect. You're arrogant... you never want to listen...and stubborn...hell will freeze over before you admit that you're wrong ... and one sided and noisier than hell. You're protective to the point of smothering, Dad. You're not violent...hell you can cut deeper with a well chosen remark... than you ever could with your fist. If you can't see that then maybe you need a '730' exam more than some of those defendants of yours."

McCoy smiled at his daughter's use of the legal short hand for a mental health evaluation.

"Sounds like your mother and I will make an attorney out of you yet...despite of your misguided belief that your fortune lies in photojournalism."

"After listening to you and Mom discuss case law over _Lucky Charms_ before I could talk, the lingo is subliminally etched into my sub conscious forever,' she countered sarcastically. "Remember when I flunked out of Yale? The start of my slow descent into my Greta Gabor 'I vat to be alone' stage? You and Mom both tried to tell me putting my energy into dwelling on the past and not focusing on the present, was setting a course for more heart ache and regret. You said the only thing I could change was the course of the future. Maybe it's time you took you own advise Dad. Maybe you should put you energy into this new life you're starting and stop looking over your shoulder for Grandpa to ruin it."


	17. Damn you, Danielle Melnick

"Brooke, you've been looking over your shoulder ever since this case got handed off to us and it's getting down right annoying," Jake Cohen said as he finished reviewing the last deposition recorded in the Crawford case.

The ADA shook his head and set the file back down on Malinowski's desk with a deliberate 'bang'.

Malinowski ran an impatient hand through her hair and looked up from her own reading. She knew her assistant had been less than thrilled to receive her phone call the night before. When she asked that he meet her at the office to review the case files one more time for the Crawford case, Cohen had replied as if agreeing to a long postponed root canal.

Over the course of the trial, the pair had worked every weekend, as well as into the late hours of the night during the week. She knew Cohen had reached his limit and rightly so. She tossed her glasses on the desk although with the file folder and waited.

"You're letting your personal feelings get the way of prosecuting this case, Brooke," he said bluntly. "I know you never wanted to go for murder two on this one, but unless you're willing to take on the DA himself, you have no choice. You can read and reread the files until you go blind, but you can't find what isn't there. We both sat in on the Crawford boys deposition. The Sheriff, as well as Bowers and Clayton have retraced every step of the investigation half a dozen times. If something was amiss they would have found it by now."

Malinowski nodded. She knew the investigators on the case were as good as they came. Both Bowers and Clayton were former homicide detectives with stellar records and reputations for thoroughness that made them the two most asked for investigators the DA's office had.

"Something isn't right," she said more to herself than Cohen.

As angry as she was with Danielle Melnick, she knew the defense attorney would not have gone through all she had, just to try to jar Malinowski and get her off her game. There had to be something to this story….something Malinowski wasn't seeing.

"If you really believe that, talk to Michael for God's sake or at least tell me what is _really_ going on."

Malinowski shook her head. Although she trusted Jake Cohen with any and all aspects of her personal life, she wasn't about to share such personal details about McCoy's life with anyone else. As far as sharing Melnick's assertion that her client's son had committed the crime, she had told Cohen only what he needed to know in order to review the evidence for inconsistencies that would support the boy's involvement.

"If I could, I would. You know that," she said flatly. "As far as going to Michael, until we find something to establish Roberta didn't act alone or didn't act at all, you know what he's going to say."

"Well, I'm done for the day," he said as he stood. "If you want to spend the rest of the afternoon doing the defenses job, go for it. I told Will I'd meet him at the Metropolitan Museum at three. I have no intention of being late."

"Have fun. Jake, before you go," she said tentively,"you never did give me your take on the plea. If you were lead on this case, would you have offered man one or stuck with murder two?"

Cohen leaned against the door and pondered her question. He had worked with Malinowski long enough to know she didn't ask a question like that... especially more than once... to seek only conformation of her own opinion.

"If she hadn't bought the damn gun a month in advance, I'd have gone for man one," he said at last. "It's that act alone, in my mind, that makes this a murder two case. It just doesn't make sense that she brought that gun without knowing she'd use it the next time she had an opportunity."

"She and Melnick claim the gun was purchased because the husband was away on business at least two weekends a month. But Crawford's business calendar doesn't confirm that."

"Because they're trying to cover," Cohen said impatiently."Brooke you've seen this dozens of times before. Either Melnick is faking you out or she's being had by her client. It's not like it would be the first time a client lied to her. I've got to run. Give me a call if you miraculously find that needle in the hay stack."

Malinowski stared at the closed door and then back down at the engagement ring that sparkled back at her in the florescent light.

She knew Cohen had some valid points. Maybe it was just her own desire to see an abused woman vindicated, instead of sentenced to prison for nearly the remainder of her life, that made her so uneasy. After hearing McCoy's story, she knew better than ever, there were at least two sides to any domestic violence story.

"Damn you Danielle Melnick," she said the empty room, just before the phone on the desk rang.


	18. Mother of the Year

Brooke Malinowski was already seated in the interview room at Riker's when Danielle Melnick arrived.

"Apparently being engaged to the district attorney has it perks," Melnick said as she took a seat across from her advisory."Getting the warden to agree to a Sunday interview is usually like pulling teeth."

Malinowski unsmilingly stared back at her. It had taken McCoy making a late night call to Judge Walter Bradley, who contacted Riker's Island's Warden Jasper Price personally, to get permission to interview Roberta Crawford that morning.

"After the things you've done in connection with this case, you're in no position to comment on any strings I may have pulled," Malinowski said bluntly. "I hope you're ready to deal Danielle."

"I hope you're ready to be reasonable, Brooke," the other attorney countered as the door opened.

Malinowski slid the file in front of her towards Melnick while Roberta Crawford took a seat beside her lawyer.

"As reasonable as I can be with a woman who tried to hire a hit man to kill her husband less than two weeks before the murder," she said icily. "You see Mrs. Crawford, that fairy tale you decided to tell your attorney, it inspired me to made me go through every piece of evidence that related to this case. It also gave me reason to have the police continue to dig for new evidence."

Melnick looked up from the file, her face almost colorless.

"Just because this Clyde Milton is willing to say Roberta offered to pay him a third of the insurance money if he shot ..."

"Danielle," Malinowski said wearily, "look at the date on the receipt for the gun. It's for the day after Milton claims she approached him. Look at the parking stub the detectives found in her car. It's for the day and time claims he met her at a bar fifty feet from that parking garage. There's more, but I think I've made my point."

Melnick passed the file to her client and motioned for Malinowski to follow her outside.

"What," the ADA practically spat back at Melnick.

"Brooke, this isn't the way it looks,."

"Isn't it? It looks like murder one to me, Danielle. Premeditation, means, motive, and she tried to hire someone to do it for her. You're client's lucky this state outlawed the death penalty."

"Brooke you saw what her husband did to her," Melnick said almost pleading. "If she hadn't done something, he would have killed her. Think about those pictures, think about what Jack..."

"_Don't,"_ Malinowski snapped in a tone that startled even Malinowski. "Jack's mother went through more than this woman_ ever_ will and she didn't hire some guy to kill Jack's father and then when he wanted more money, decided to do it herself and then try to pin it on Jack or one of his siblings. Roberta Crawford _isn't_ Deidre McCoy and her husband wasn't Officer John McCoy. You know if we continue the trial I will ask to amend the charges to include murder one. If she's convicted, I'll ask for the maximum time."

"What are you offering," Melnick asked suspiciously.

"Murder two, maximum time."

Melnick's eyes widened.

"You want to send her away for _twenty years_? Brooke think about what she went through..."

"Danielle," the other woman hissed. "She was willing to send her son to prison for fifteen years, for a crime _she_ committed! Now, you go in there and sell 'Mrs. Battered Wife Syndrome', this plea in the next sixty seconds or I'm taking this bargain of a life time back and we can see what a jury says about a mother willing to sacrifice her son."

Melnick could see the fury in the other woman's eyes and the effort she was making to control herself. Although Melnick was angered by her client's lies herself, she couldn't get the pictures of her client's battered and broken body out of her mind.

"He would have killed her if it didn't stop Brooke. She may have made some bad choices, but all of her options were bad."

"Listen Danielle," Malinowski said looking through the glass at Crawford. "I know you want to believe her, any woman would after seeing those pictures. Her husband was as big a son of a bitch as Jack's father was. That's why Jack can forgive you. That's why I will eventually. But she's playing us. She's playing us in the worst way a woman can play another woman. This isn't about the sisterhood Danielle, this is about cold, deliberate murder. If her son was convicted, she'd be eligible to collect the two million dollar life insurance policy on Crawford. She knows that. Now, do we have a deal or do I take the new evidence to Judge Bradley Monday?"


	19. Lunch With Jack

It took Melnick, Cohen, and Malinowski less than a half hour to present the terms of the plea bargain to Judge Walter Bradley. After the no nonsense judge assured himself all sides were in agreement he accepted the plea; leaving the principals with a few short errands to perform before leaving the court house.

Cohen graciously offered to walk the papers over to the clerk's office with Melnick. When Malinowski offered to wait for him to take him out for a celebratory brunch before he headed back to Long Island, Cohen smiled slyly and made a mysterious remark about meeting her outside the Baxter Street exit, unless she got a better offer.

The moment she walkied the late morning sunlight she knew why Cohen had made such a baffling comment. Malinowski recognized the driver of the town car immediately. As she leisurely strode towards the car, she causally looked thought the surrounding sea of faces for her lover.

"Good morning Martin."

The uniform clad driver tipped his hat, as he opened the car door.

"Good morning Ms. Malinowski. Mr. McCoy asked for me to extend his invitation for lunch."

"May I ask where we're going," she asked as she slid into the back seat, smiling at the bouquet of green carnations that sat on the seat beside her.

"Mr. McCoy told me to tell you 'you'll know when you get there'."

"That does sound like Mr. McCoy, doesn't it," she said with a chuckle as the door closed.

While the car slid back into traffic Malinowski opened the card attached to the bouquet, too busy reading to notice the driver had left Centre Street and was merging into the lane that was labeled 'Bridge Traffic Only'.

_Congratulations on not only your win, but __getting through your first round with Dangerous __Dani__ not only unscathed but without a homicide charge against you, as well!_

_I just missed you this morning. The early train from Portland ran into a delay an hour from Grand Central. Jake tells me you both have a few comp days coming due to the trial being in Manhattan instead of Suffolk County. I took the liberty of calling Michael and advising him that you'd be using some of those days._

_Don't be mad. _

_Trust m__e. _

_Love,_

_Jack_

Malinowski smiled, her curiousity peaked, as she reread the card. After taking several deep breaths of the fresh scent of the bouquet, she noticed the cooler on the floor beside her. After lifting the lid she caught the driver's eyes in the rear view mirror.

"Martin, I thought you were taking me to meet Jack for lunch? From the looks of this cooler, either you and I are having lunch together or Mr. McCoy is planning on a mighty long drive for this rendezvous."

The driver nodded and smiled politely.

"Should you choose to have a snack, I am confident your appetite will have returned by the time we reach our destination."

Before she had a chance to press the driver for more information, Malinowski's eyes widened as the driver moved smoothly into the next lane as they passed a sign that read: Niagara Falls 400 miles.

By the time the town car pulled in front of the bed and breakfast the air had turned chilly and the sky had grown dark. The driver walked with her to the door of the cottage and gently knocked before departing. While she waited, Malinowski could hear what sounded like the sound of water falling in the distance, as well the faint sound of a saxophone and piano.

"Canada? You invited me to lunch in Canada," she asked with a chuckle, as the door opened.

McCoy shrugged his shoulders, giving her a boyish grin.

"Tell me you didn't have anything pressing on your calendar for the next three days," McCoy said as he guided her into the candlelit room.

"Three days," she began to respond, as her mind whirled through the day planner in her head.

The Meitter deposition, the Ketteridge pleas bargain, and half a dozen other work responsibilities that had been on the tip of her tongue were forgotten as McCoy took the bouquet from her and Malinowski looked around the dimly lit room.

The falls seemed to be a step away. The grand display of water colorfully lit and visible from the bay window across from her. The room glowing with light coming from a stone fireplace that was directly across from the four poster bed. Candles that rested from the elegantly set dining table, to the night tables, to the top of the dresser danced almost in harmony with the softly playing jazz.

"If this is how you plan to celebrate every big win I have in court," she said mischievously brushing the comma of hair from his eyes," either you doubt my abilities as a prosecutor and think this is a rare occurrence or your raise from when you became DA is much bigger than you've let on."

"I think we'd both agree this win deserves a special celebration," he as he kissed her quickly."You must be starving after that drive. You're probably worn out, as well. Maybe you'd like to freshen up before dinner?"

"Actually, I'd like to know how you got a hold of my passport," she said bluntly. "I could have sworn I had that in my safety deposit box in Inslip. How in the world did you get to Martin?"

McCoy smiled roguishly as he led her to the table.

"I don't suppose you'd settle for an explanation like: I'm the DA, I can subpoena just about any document I can think of?"

"Knowing your views on the Patriot Act? No," she said sardonically."I wouldn't buy that for a minute."

"Well, Danielle is anxious to mend fences with both of us," he began as he handed her a glass of champagne."Seems your ex-husband still has a key to your safety deposit box. You know, you might want to up date your signature card for that box. Sam was more than willing to help Danielle out by getting the passport and bringing it to Martin at the courthouse before you finished with Walter this morning."

"Are you serious," she said incredulously. "Did you tell either of them why you needed my passport?"

"This is a need to know trip," he said with smugness that made her laugh out loud.

"Really? You sound more like James Bond than Jack McCoy. So tell me what exactly does that non-answer mean?"

"It means you'll have an answer when I think you need one. How's the champagne?"

"I could be a wise ass and play your evasive little game, but being that I _am_ the mature one in this relationship," she said with equally smugness, which brought about a deep laugh from the other side of the table," I must say it's the best glass of champagne I think I've ever had. The company tonight is, without a doubt, the best."

McCoy grinned back at her from across the table as he picked up a oyster from the tray beside him. Malinowski leaned forward as McCoy reached across the table to feed her the traditional aphrodisiac. She met his eyes as she opened her mouth and slowly seductively, sucked the oyster out of its shell; in the end making a slurping sound that caused them both to giggle.

"Very smooth," McCoy managed to sputter between bouts of laughter, as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Stop it," she gasped. "I've still got to …swallow it."

McCoy nodded as he handed her the glass of champagne beside her. As she carefully sipped the liquid, McCoy divided the remaining seafood between them and began spreading horseradish on the oysters in front of him.

"Ready to try again," he asked as he picked up another oyster shell.

As they continued their banter, Malinowski unsuccessfully tried to prod McCoy into revealing what other surprises her had in store her. Once the majority of food had been consumed, McCoy seemed to make a point of looking at the front of her blouse, as if something was a miss.

"Maybe you should take a minute and freshen up," he said seriously. "I saw some of the oyster juice run down onto your blouse a few minutes ago. Remember the last time you spilled something on a silk blouse?"

"Jack, since when did you become my dry cleaner," she asked with amusement, as she stood."I don't see anything, but since you seem so concerned, I'll be right back."

McCoy smiled to himself. He ate the remaining oyster on his plate and quickly washed it down with the last of champagne in his glass before following her into the bathroom.

When he caught up with his fiancée, he found her standing in the middle of the room. Malinowski was clearly overwhelmed. A side from the usual luxuries one finds a five star lodging (sheet towels from Sax, a sunken tub for two with Jacuzzi jets in a room the size of most people's guest rooms) there was a particular item that had caught her eyes, as McCoy had hoped it would.

Malinowski was staring at the shower.

The stall easily had room for two... families that is. What fascinated her was the same feature that had sold McCoy on the cottage. The shower was designed with a tropical waterfall in mind.

McCoy came up from behind her and pulled her into an embrace.

"I thought now that your back and ribs are healed, maybe it was time to try to forfill that fantasy of yours."

"I assume you've checked the shower floor for stray bars of soap," she asked as she looked up at him with amazement.

"I have not only checked for them, but have collected them and put them safely into the vanity," he said as he turned her to face him."I thought about trying this under one of the smaller water falls outside, but given that the temperature is still in the fifties, I thought it best to stick with an indoor fantasy. At least this time."

Malinowski's eyes danced with pleasure as she reached up to tousle his thick grey mane.

"It looks like that time you spent with Becky did you more good than I anticipated."

McCoy grinned down at her, as his index finger gently ran over her throat and down to the valley between her breasts.

"Becky sends her love. But right now, I don't want to talk about my daughter," he replied before kissing her.

Malinowski moved closer as their arms went around each other. As their kisses became more intense, she felt his hands begin to unhook and unbutton the barriers between them. Eager to free him of his clothes, she followed suit.

Once her task was completed, Malinowski stepped back and gave McCoy's body a lingering, appreciative look. Although Jack McCoy wasn't a young man, it often amazed his fiancée how exciting she found his body.

It wasn't just the skill with which McCoy did what he did to his lover, it was also the pleasure she took in her own exploration of his lean form, which aroused her so. McCoy always smelled good and that evening was no exception. The faint smell of musk mixed with his own unique chemistry made her heady with desire. The feel of his warm, strong body against her had always been enough to make her knees weaken. But the way he looked without his clothing... the broad shoulders, the firm chest, the legs than amazingly remained tight and muscular after years spent behind a desk... the way he looked made her impatient to touch and be touched.

As the last of their clothing fell to the floor she leaned back against the counter and wrapped her self around him.

"I'm not sure I want to wait for the water to warm up."

"What about your fantasy," he mumured, while he ran a hand slowly up the inside of her thigh.

"We'll get to it later. After all, we have three days,"she whispered as her hands roamed over this body, one hand reaching between his legs. "Besides, you _are_ my fantasy, Jack McCoy."

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"I hate to bring this up, but I hope you plan on paying poor Martin out of pocket," she said hours later as they lay in front of the fireplace. "If your opponent in the election next fall gets wind of you using public monies for a jaunt to the Falls..."

"All ready had that pointed out to me by Jake, when I started planning this little celebration," he said as he wrapped a blanket around them and snuggled back into an embrace. "I hired Martin personally to not only pick you up, but to take us back when it's time."

"Jack that's three days from now. Don't misunderstand. I love the idea of being here with you," she with genuine concern. "But that's going to cost you a fortune, not to mention the cottage and ..."

"Martin has family here in Ontario. He's going to visit them until we're ready to go. Besides, we've been savings for months for the wedding. There's more than enough money for what I have in mind."

"The money for the wedding," she said thoughtfully. "You maneuvered Sam into helping you with this scheme, as well as my faithful and trusted assistant, then you call my boss and hijack me for half a week. Jack, what exactly do you have in mind?"

McCoy smiled, knowing what she was really trying to ask.

He still couldn't believe how much had changed since he had begun seeing Malinowski. His cynical vow to avoid a third marriage had given way to anticipation of a new marriage and gratitude for finding a woman he felt not only an ardent desire to love, but a certainty that he could never find another woman so well suited to him as Brooke Malinowski.

"Marry me," he said hopefully. "Unless you've changed your mind about a big wedding, marry me now, Brooke. Here, before we go back to Manhattan. I don't want to wait any longer for you to become my wife."

Malinowski grinned at the almost childlike enthusiasm in McCoy voice. She bit back a remark about the water in Portland being laced with some sort of mind control substance, when she saw the look in his eyes. As playful has he had been that evening, Malinowski could see he was offering her his heart. To make light of that would be to risk hurting the last person she ever wanted to harm.

"I don't want to wait either. But you know how the girls feel," she said seriously."Becky and Lindsay both made it clear that if we eloped they would never forgive us. You know we can't get married without them."

"Who said we'd have to," he said as his sly smile returned.

Malinowski propped herself up on her elbow and watched expectantly as McCoy briefly left her. She waited him out, silently watching as he stirred the embers in the fireplace until a fresh log ignited. When he returned, he continuing looking at her like the cat that'd caught the mouse, remaining every bit as silent as she.

After he was nestled back under the blankets with her, McCoy reached behind him and began pouring another glass of champagne. Smiling, he handed the glass to Malinowski, who finally sighed as she took it.

"For someone who makes his living with words, you are too damned good at this tall, dark, and silent game, Jack. When are they coming and how the hell did you manage it?"

"Becky seems to think it's time for me to make an honest woman out of you," he admitted, as he embraced her."She suggested the Falls since there is no waiting period once we get the license. All I have to do is call her and she'll be on the next train, along with Lindsay, and few others that are near and dear to us."

"You must have had Sam clean out the safety deposit box if you think we can get a marriage license. How did you get my brother to agree to keep Lindsay out of school?"

"Well to be honest, there is a trade off. Your brother can't get the time off. He's going to take Lindsay as far as Grand Central. Becky will meet them and take Lindsay the rest of the way. Now, if you want to wait and do this with Andy, I understand."

Malinowski shook her head. She tried to process the fact it looked like McCoy had covered all the bases, leaving no reason why the two couldn't be married the next day. Although she had thought about having her brother give her away as he had the first time she'd been married, she knew Andrew Malinowski still harbored the hope she and her ex-husband would eventually find their way back to each other. A hope she saw no reason to share with her fiancée.

"We can show Andy the pictures," she said kissing him on the cheek. "I suppose you found a dress as well and a tux?"

"Everything that needs to be handled, can be handled a few miles up the road. I know this is a shock. I don't want you to feel pressured. If you want to wait..."

"It's a wonderful surprise and I love you for thinking of it," she said with a grin. "I knew you were something special the first time I saw you, Jack McCoy."

McCoy grinned back as he kissed the top of her head.

"I doubt that. The first time we met was the summer of 1995. Your husband was speaking at a state bar convention and you-"

"…were sitting in the main bar of the Four Seasons with Arthur and Lillian Branch," she said as she met his startled gaze. "Yes, Jack I remember the first time I met you. You were with Adam Schiff and Claire Kincaid. Adam brought you both over to meet Arthur. Shortly after the introductions were made Lillian and Claire went to the powder room and you three thought you were going to lecture me on prosecutorial misconduct..."

"...and instead you turned it in to a debate over prosecutorial discretion," he countered.

He remembered it as if it had happened that night. Even though he was very much in love with his young assistant Claire Kincaid, McCoy remembered how taken he'd been with the sharpness and wit Malinowski had shown in the face of two such powerful and respected men. He also remembered how the memory of her had lingered in his mind long after the convention ended.

"I thought you only had eyes for Sam those days?"

"As I'm sure you did for Claire," she countered. "It's hard not to swoon when you're in the presence of old hang 'em high."

Malinowski gasped as his fingers attacked the most ticklish spot he'd found on her to date. She fell back against him as she desperately tried to kick her foot free of his grasp.

"You know how much I hate it when you all me that," he said with a smirk. "You also know, you're hardly a swooner."

"Fine. But if you want me to walk down the aisle tomorrow, I'll need my foot back!"

"Does that mean you _will_ marry me tomorrow?"

Malinowski looked up into the face above her. Even if she'd had misgivings, seeing Jack McCoy's signature scowl replaced by a look of such joyful excitement would have been enough to win her over. She grinned as she thought about that first meeting.

McCoy was right. From the moment she met Sam Prescott, her eyes had never wandered. Until the night she met Jack McCoy.

Not that she had ever thought about putting her marriage in jeopardy or that the man women in the legal profession called the Wolf of Hogan Place would have even considered dallying with a married woman. No. Just because her heart a skipped a beat when she looked up and saw the tall good looking man, who was recognized on site by every woman at that convention, didn't mean anything other than that she still had a pulse, married or not.

It was when he held her hand. That fraction of a second that their eyes met during a run of the mill introduction. That's when she understood why Jack McCoy had the reputation he had.

He could easily have any woman he decided he wanted.

After more than a decade since they first met, he wanted her.

Forever.

"Yes, Jack. I'd be proud to become your wife tomorrow."


End file.
